Don't Look Back
by Ditsyjo
Summary: Neal has been running for a long time...can he finally face his past when he doesn't dare look back... set post series... I'm generally not very nice to characters so you have been warned. Neal will be damaged
1. Chapter 1

Run! It flashed though his mind like a shouted command... and Neal was running, ignoring the throbbing pain in his ribs, the trees that slashed at his face, and the thorns that tore at his legs... he had to keep moving. DON"T LOOK BACK!

Brown eyes flashed though his mind... his friend's gaze pleading for him to think of something...DO SOMETHING! Anything. But there was nothing he could do... just run. His feet splashed through the cold shallow stream, scrambling through the mud on the other side... "Don't look back" he commanded again... "You're dead if you look back"

"They're dead" he told himself fiercely "GONE! Don't look back! There is nothing you can do. They were dead as soon as... If you look back they will catch you! And stop crying!" but he was as powerless to stop the tears that ran down his face as he was to stop the cold mist of nearly freezing rain...

He winched as a bullet struck a tree inches from his face... the tiny splinters of wood that exploded from it stinging his cheek... his hands...reflexively he closed his eyes... brown pleading eyes filled his vision... blue eyes snapped open with a frantic shake of his head... "KEEP RUNNING!"

His right arm was numb, his legs to if he was honest... his lungs burned as if a bonfire raged in his chest... Cold... he couldn't control the shivering... How long could he keep up this insane game of cat and mouse? Sooner or later his legs would give out besides... even he couldn't out run a bullet...

Guilt tore at him ... blood that was not his own splashing across his face as his best friend slumped to the ground... Fear screamed at him "you are going to die tonight!" Over it all the part of his mind that was usually so calm and logical kept insistently repeating "RUN!" and he ran... until the forest ended abruptly and the ground under his feet vanished...

He was falling... tumbling head over heels... it felt like forever... then he lay on the ground...he couldn't breathe... couldn't move. Cold and pain became his world...tendrils of fog drifted through the cold rain...maybe dying wouldn't be so bad… "YOU HAVE TO GET UP! YOU HAVE TO KEEP RUNNING! "The voice in his head yelled franticly

Slowly... willing his battered body to move he pressed his hands into the mud and grass of the hill. Trying to force air back into his flaming lungs he pulled himself to his feet. By sheer force of will his feet moved again... one step ... two... "DON"T LOOK BACK!" he glanced over his shoulder just once...

The horn startled him... pulling his eyes off his moving feet Neal found himself blinded by the headlights of the semi...coming straight for him! He futilely threw his hands up protectively and the truck's brakes shrieked...

Neal jerked awake...the cry of terror still on his lips, eye darting desperately around the dark space... pleading eyes, cold rain, blood and shrieking tires lingered in his mind... Gasping struggling to breathe...where was he? Slowly the fear receded enough for him to recognize the dark shapes of his room. His little apartment overlooking the Seine... he dropped back to his pillow trying to reign his breathing back in...To slow his pounding heart, cold sweat drying on his face

"It's ok... "He told himself "it's just a dream... just a bad dream" Except it wasn't a dream... he winced to admit it even to himself... it was a memory... his fingers found the small scar on his right tricep... a memory he desperately tried to forget...

With a sigh he crept out of bed... he wouldn't be sleeping anymore tonight... without thinking he picked up his phone and dialed...as he heard the first soft ring he realized he couldn't ... he couldn't call that number, couldn't hear that fatherly... annoyed, voice on the other end... not anymore... not ever again... He threw the phone furiously across the room and watched it smash against the wall!

"You destroy everything you touch, Caffrey..." Keller had been right about that. He slipped in a chair and lay his head on the table... Fighting tears...Willing the soft sounds of Paris at night to sooth him... "Don't look back" he reminded himself again


	2. Chapter 2

Peter stared at his hands... waiting... waiting for her to say something... anything. In the 2 weeks since he found the shipping box he had struggled to find a way to tell Elle about what he found there ... the hope that had surged through him... yes he could see a hundred ways Neal's plan could have gone south but... he knew ... he just knew that he was ok...

Elle sighed... softly, resigned... 2 weeks of trying to think of how to tell her and in the end he had just blurted out... "Neal's alive... he's in Paris". He swallowed. His wonderful wife thought he was crazy now, but he waited for her to speak before he pressed on... waited, staring at his hands clenched into fists on his thighs...

"Peter...?' he looked up. Tears glistened in her blue eyes... she opened her mouth to say more then closed it... sighed again... then softly "Why? Why after all this time would you..."

"I found his plan... it was a crazy one... like most of his plans" Peter couldn't sit still any more. He paced their small living room... " he used real bullets... lowered the powder charge but still...he really let Keller shoot him...the position had to be just right... and blow fish toxin... the dosage had to be calculated precisely...It was dangerous and crazy but... if anyone could pull it off..." He glanced at his wife, hoping she understood his hope and his worry.

"Neal could" she smiled gently, fondly... "But if he is... out there... why... why would he put us ... put you through this."

Peter hesitated to answer... he had thought about that from the moment he found the container... he still wasn't sure he had a reason. He started to tell her he just didn't know...

The soft tune of his phone stopped him...he glanced at his wife and she nodded slightly. It might be important... "Hello?" a distant crash echoed through the line before the call cut out. Peter frowned, concern crept into his eyes. Turning his phone over he blinked... the caller ID showed an unfamiliar number... an international number... and if he remembered correctly that prefix was France...

)()()()()()()(

Neal blinked... the morning light hurt his eyes... how long? How long had he huddled there at his table trying to forget? trying not to think... at least the tears were gone... he sighed ... "forget... yeah..."

Just like that night so long ago it took sheer force of will to push himself to his feet... Coffee... he needed coffee to melt the tension in his shoulders and back...to make his icy hands stop shaking. Why was he always so cold after... as if the freezing rain was still running down his spine...? Neal shivered. How could the memory still rip him apart this way...after all this time? Of course it wasn't the only memory that haunted him...So many people he loved...gone... He shut that train of thought off before it could begin... if he went down that road he would be reduced to tears again...

He should move on again...that was the problem in New York, he stopped running... He never should have stopped. He'd let people in, let them get close... and put them all at risk, and he never had the courage to even tell them how much... not even Mozzie... not even Peter. No he hadn't spoken about that night out loud since...since it happened. Of course he couldn't hide the nightmares... but his friends could think of plenty of reasons he had bad dreams. Besides they had become rare... It had been almost 2 years since one torn through him like this. Sometimes he almost believed himself ... almost convinced himself it never happened... almost, but now...

Tentatively he opened the laptop on the counter...hacking Peter's email had seemed like a good idea when he first did it...he could keep track of whether they knew... if they were looking for him... if his friends were at risk...

It was still there... the notice he opened yesterday...familiar faces staring up at him... it felt like a physical blow to see them...just sketches...no one knew their names...probably no one cared... he swallowed, tears stinging his eyes again... "Someone cares..." he whispered to the pictures "someone remembers"

)()()()()()()()(

Something felt off as Peter walked in the office ... the rhythm of the place felt... different...everyone seemed slightly tense... and Jones was waiting for him at the base of the stairs... this did not look like it was going to be a good day.

"Peter? There's someone from Violent Crimes DC waiting for you up there... He's kind of...intense" Jones warned softly

"Thanks" Peter frowned ... outside their division AND their jurisdiction... that was definitely odd. "Did he say what he wants?"

Jones hesitated...sighed "he says he wants to talk about ...Neal" The younger agent looked ready to fight. "He seems to think... Caffrey ..." the slight pause around his friends name was all that spoke of Jones grief "had something to do with ..."

"A violent crime ..." Peter finished incredulously

"I can throw him out if you want"

"No that's not necessary..." Peter considered. " I do need you to do something for me..." he held out the mysterious number from his phone " Run this number... and keep it quiet if you can" Then with a deep breath he climbed the stairs to his office.

The agent at his desk was 40ish, 6 foot with light brown hair and worn green eyes. He tapped his fingers restlessly on Peter's desk... looking up sharply as the door opened.

"Peter Burke. How can I help you Agent...?"

"Reynolds, Thomas Reynolds..."He shook hands firmly looking Peter square in the eye. A decent man, if Peter was any judge of character, the slight hard edge in his face a necessity of the job rather than a natural part of his personality. "Agent Burke the remains of three young men were found just outside of Washington 4 days ago." Straight to the point too Peter thought liking this man already " We have been able to identify them as Leo Davis, Donny Mitchel and Rico Mendez" He pushed pictures across the desk as Peter sank into his chair " I was wondering if you recognize them..." a brief glance told him 2 things he had never seen these faces before and young men was being generous... they were boys.

"I'm sorry I don't" Peter answered waiting for a connection

"How about this one?" Reynolds flipped a fourth picture toward him and Peter's breath caught. Yes he knew the grinning blue eyed boy standing between Donny Mitchel and Rico Mendez... his arms draped playfully across their shoulders... a small smile flitted across Peter's face. He had never seen Neal so young... he looked unguarded... Naïve even... the mask was missing

"Yes that one I know" he carefully kept his voice even. "What does he have to do with your investigation?"

"One of Donny's ...friends gave me this picture... he said this one... Caffrey started hanging around the others just a few weeks before they disappeared... that after he did the others started talking about coming into big money. These boys were...small time trouble... all of them had Juvenile records..." he tapped Neal's picture" except this one... as far as I can tell he didn't exist before he started hanging out with Donny and Rico. He disappeared the same time as the others... difference is he resurfaced here in New York... while the others...I read the intake psych eval from his arrest... sociopathic tendencies... "

Peter's mouth opened then snapped shut on the anger that tried to escape. Finally he managed "Neal was never violent... not his MO"

"Are you 100% certain of that ... given his evaluation... I would guess him to be capable of... most anything."

"Yes I'm certain" Peter ground out quietly deciding his first impression of the man had been mistaken.

"I would like to speak to him..." Reynolds continued

A furious snort from the doorway interrupted him. "Good luck" Jones said externally calm...

"You cannot deny me access to..."

"You didn't read Caffrey's whole file did you" Jones replied" if had you would know he's... dead... has been for a year"

Reynolds mouth clamped shut for a minute... then he carefully unfolded a paper and lay it on the desk... "Someone here knows something... I received this... from your office... at 4:32 this morning" sketches of the three boys stared up at them from the e-mail notice sent to all law enforcement offices but this one had a reply ... 3 words

"Ask Kyle Nolen"

Peter Burke grinned

)()()()()()()()()(

Jones looked up from his screen to glare briefly at agent Reynolds... the man was determined to prove Neal was a murderer... not that it really mattered now except the real killer would walk...he turned back to the computer. The number he entered came up on the monitor almost instantly...

Business number: Secure Futures

Owner: Nicholas Collins

Address: 216c Rue Michel Carre, Paris

He looked up the company... established 11 months ago... specialized in security consultation... a strange suspicion grew in his gut... it wasn't possible. He knew that, but the man he was thinking of seemed to specialize in "not possible" .With a small smile Jones headed to his boss's office.

"Hey Peter? I've got that number you asked me to pull ... it's a Paris number ...a business line for a small startup... Secure futures... someone called you from this number?"

"Thank you" Peter looked up as Jones continued to hover. The younger man grinned

"Did you have an interesting conversation?"

"No...The call cut out almost as soon as I answered."

Direct approach it is Jones decided

"Peter is it possible that Caffrey isn't...that he's alive?"

Peter's voice was soft as he stood up "I'd guess it's more than possible..."

"He sent the e-mail." Jones hesitated "Neal was never a killer...can't imagine he ever will be"

"Me either but... He knows something about this case ... enough he couldn't let it lie ...and now we know where to find out how much"

"I'll book you a flight boss"

()()()()()()()(

Thomas Reynolds was no one's fool years of working Violent Crime had taught him to never drop your guard on the job, keep your eyes and ears open and never stop digging. So with his prime suspect deceased and certain he had trusted someone in this office with at least the cover story regarding these murdered boys Reynolds had requested the personal effects from Caffrey's desk...

Someone had silently, almost sullenly brought him the box... now elbow deep in ties he was more than slightly confused...and frustrated. He had found a nice pen... a small statue... a sketch pad...colored pencils (really?)... A rubber band ball (the man must have been a child) a snapshot with "Burke's seven" written neatly on the back... and about 20 ties (seriously what is with the ties?)... But absolutely nothing of any interest to his case.

Thomas was also well aware of the openly hostile stares he was receiving from several of the younger agents in the room. Clearly they didn't like him bringing up Neal Caffrey around here... or sitting at the only available desk and going thought the man's ties... he felt the tension in the room the moment he mentioned the man's name...and it had only elevated once the reason for his interest had circulated... not exactly the reaction he had expected...he didn't miss the conspicuous glances at the items he pulled out of the box and set on the desk... he wasn't sure what he had expected when he requested the dead man's things, but it wasn't this kind of anger... almost as if he were investigating a fallen agent.

He glanced up as agent ...Jones wasn't it? Practically jumped up from his desk and headed to the ASAC's office ... a very peculiar look on his face. Well...that was interesting...they had seemed genuinely surprised when he showed them the e-mail... "Ask Kyle Nolen" Someone here knew what that meant. Reynolds edged carefully over to Jones' desk to catch a glimpse of what had agitated the man... a French company's phone listing... it probably had nothing to do with his case... but he had a feeling it did. It couldn't hurt to have his friends in Europe look into this company... just in case...

)()()()()()()()()(

Neal poured another cup of coffee...his 5th this morning. After 3 sleepless nights... he needed the coffee to steady him. He blinked hard trying to make his mind focus on the plans of Versailles' system... he should run a test... maybe that would pick up his spirits...it would definitely be more fun than staring at these diagrams... sighing he ground his palms into his eyes... he was so tired... maybe a nap would help him focus...

The door slammed open!

"PERSONNE NE BOUGE!" someone shouted... Guns... half a dozen of them at least... leveled steadily at him. Neal froze as ordered "MAINS EN L'AIR!" hands up ...he knew the drill ... he sank to his knees, hands on his head..." what did I do? I haven't done anything..." For once Neal Caffrey had no idea why French police and Interpol agents would be swarming his home...

)()()()()()()()(

Peter stepped out of the taxi outside 216 Rue Michel Carre... anxiety twisting in his gut... the side walk was swarming with police cars...

"D*** it Neal what did you do now." he muttered... he hesitated... waiting...for what? He didn't really know... in that moment he caught sight of his friend as they lead him out of the building in cuffs... Neal looked... well... confused... shocked... he hadn't been expecting this...

As he stared...slowly wrapping his mind around seeing his friend alive...alive and real and right there... and in trouble again...

Suddenly Neal's eyes found him... a questioning gaze "did you do this, Peter?" He silently asked and the look that was almost ... hurt...

Peter met those blue eyes and shook his head slightly and shrugged. "I don't know what's happening... What did you do?" A familiar form caught his eye... light brown hair... green eyes...

"I changed my mind" Peter thought "I don't like that guy" as Reynolds beamed at him.


	3. Chapter 3

Reynolds watched his suspect through the glass partition. The young man sat relaxed in the hard chair a hint of a smile playing on his lips... Reynolds had expected a fight...at least an argument or protest when the police arrested him... but he hadn't said a word. Just dropped quietly to his knees and entwined his fingers behind his head. He didn't even ask why he was being arrested, yet he didn't seem intimidated at all... that smug little hint of a smile never faltered, he even made conversation with a young female officer on the ride in, making the girl smile brightly.

A brief glimpse into Caffrey's apartment hadn't yielded anything related to the murders but that wasn't surprising... Reynolds had seen 3 paintings sitting on the floor, as if the man hadn't bothered to hang them...and a set of diagrams, someone said they were the security plans for the palace at Versailles...

"Reynolds!" he looked up ... Burke was furious. Well he couldn't help that he stepped on the man's toes... besides he withheld information

"I'm just doing my job...those boys deserve justice."

Burke pulled up suddenly "and you really think Neal did it?"

"Yes I do... look at him in there... cool as ice. Men like that are far more dangerous than the nervous types...And he knows what happened to those kids...I sure of that."

"Neal is not dangerous..." Burke glared then relented slightly. "But I agree he knows something about it." he glanced through the 2 way glass his expression concerned.

"You know I find it a little disturbing that you are so comfortable being on a first name basis with a sociopath." Reynolds muttered "and that you came all this way to protect him."

"I came to find out what he knows."

"Is that why you told me he was dead?"

Burke rubbed his forehead thoughtfully before his eyes strayed anxiously over to the glass "I didn't know for sure that he wasn't until I saw him."

Reynolds sighed..."I'm sorry if you saw him as something else... but I am almost certain he was involved in this murder…" He really did feel sorry for this man, who had so obviously been taken in by Caffrey

"And you are going to go in there and accuse him of murder?" a hint of a smile twitched at the corner of Burkes mouth, before his eyes went back to the window.

"I'm going to interrogate my suspect, yes."

"You won't get anything out of him that way."

"What do you propose I do? Buy him dinner…"

"Couldn't hurt."

"Just stay out of the way."

)()()()()()()()(

Peter stared through the glass at his friend. He let Reynolds go in alone because he really wasn't sure what he wanted to say to Neal. The kid let them all think he was dead… let all of his friends mourn for him for a year… Peter wanted to yell at him and demand the reasons why, he wanted to hug him and not let go, the idea of punching him had crossed his mind as well. All of that would have to wait though. Right now the young man was being accused of some pretty ugly things.

Neal looked tired, he thought, tired enough it was showing though his façade. Peter watched the younger man flex his cuffed hands over and over…was it his imagination or did the fingers tremble just a bit. Neal clenched his fists again hiding the tremor quickly. "Just like after Kate," Peter thought, "something has him really rattled"

"Do you know Donny Mitchel?"

"No" the polite smile never slipped but Peter saw Neal's eyes flicker

"Do you know Rico Mendez?"

"No' that flicker again "should I?"

Reynolds lay the picture of Neal and the 2 boys on the table between them. Neal barely glanced at it before "you asked if I KNOW them…" he leaned back in the chair casually "I knew them once, but I haven't seen them in years."

"We found them Caffrey. We know how they died"

"They're dead? That's too bad…" Another quick glance at the picture a flicker that looked like grief in his eyes. Then as calm as ever. 'What does this have to do with me?

"Why? That's what I want to know?" Reynolds glared "Did they get greedy? Did you? Maybe they wanted out?"

Neal waited for the tirade to end hands folded on the table, body lax, blue eyes on Reynolds' face, careful not to look at the picture.

"You think I killed them? I don't suppose you have any evidence…"

Reynolds glare darkened he tossed crime scene photos on the table. Neal's eyes never dropped for even a second.

Peter was moving before the first photo hit the table. He burst into the room, cold fury in his face. Neal didn't do violence or bodies. And this idiot was going to force him to look at his friends … his friend's remains.

"That's enough." Peter hissed through clenched teeth.

"hey peter" Neal grinned at him… his eyes screaming his thanks" you found me again."

"Always do. this makes me, what, 5 and 0?"

"4 and 0, it doesn't count if I'm trying to get caught."

"What are you doing Burke?" Reynolds ground out

"Put those away. He doesn't need to see that. "His tone protective, he glanced at his friend, a look that ordered _go now_

"I think he does –"Reynolds began

"Agent Reynolds" the interruption was bland "It's been fun but since it doesn't appear you have anything to connect me to murder…" Neal stood up and lay the cuffs on the table careful to keep his eyes straight ahead "I have a business to run."

"You are a sociopath" Reynolds snarled

"Wouldn't be the first person to call me that." Neal tossed over his shoulder as he strolled out of the room.

()()()()()()(

The ride back to 216 rue Mitchel Carre was surprisingly quiet. After Neal walked out Reynolds had exploded at Peter, demanding to know what he was thinking, threatening obstruction

Peter waited out the tirade impatiently before answering "Are you finished? I warned you he wouldn't talk to you if you came at him that way." He took a deep breath and looked Reynolds in the eye "I'm trying to help you. I know Neal. When he feels cornered, Neal runs… it's what he does. And he doesn't do confessions…" Peter continued as Reynolds interrupted. "Let me talk to him and I can find out what he knows.'

"No. He's got you so manipulated you can't even see what he is."

"I worked with the kid for 3 years. I know exactly what he is. He's a thief, a forger a con artist…but he hates guns_,_ violence makes him almost sick."

"And that couldn't have been an act?"

"He knows something Reynolds… he's not a killer but he knows something about this… if you want to know what you will do this my way and start treating him like a witness instead of a suspect."

"Fine…we'll try it your way, but I am going to be there"

After hailing a taxi they rode in silence, lost in their own thoughts. "To be honest" Peter admitted to himself "I'm worried…" in the year since he'd seen his friend ,Neal had lost weight, and he looked exhausted. And Peter had not missed the trace of fear and pain in his voice. These boys …these deaths affected him far more than he was willing to admit.

Three flights of stairs and he was knocking on the door. It swung open quietly. Neal's eyes darken as they fall on Reynolds behind Peter.

"Go home Peter."

"Can't do that."

"I'm not your responsibility anymore."

_But you are still my friend _"Neal…" he met the younger man's eyes.

Neal sighed… and stepped back out of the doorway, the very definition of controlled tension. "Reynolds?' Neal inclined his head slightly. He kept his hands in his pockets, Peter notices, out of sight as he walks to his small kitchen.

Peter glanced at the other agent "give me a few minutes" he said softly "he will talk to me… but he doesn't trust you'

Reynolds practically growled but he stayed in the hallway as Peter gently closed the door.

The apartment is small but elegant, windows overlooking the river. Everything is neatly in its place

The painting on the easel is unlike any Peter has ever seen Neal create… the colors dark and harsh. A small stream flowing through the forest... but the feeling it creates is far from peaceful. In fact it sends a tiny shiver down his spine.

"Been thinking, I see" he gestures to the piece.

"Couldn't sleep." Neal saunters back to the stool at the easel, a glass of wine steadying his hands.

"Nice place… and with a view."

"Of course." The grin hadn't changed a bit… quiet settled over them. "How's Elisabeth… and the baby?"

"She's great… they're great."

"He's 8 months old now, right?"

"Yeah…" Peter hesitated "smart too…trying to talk already"

"Bet you are a great dad." The tone quiet…reflective.

"Mozzie stopped by to meet him… I told Elle to watch him. He'd have the boy picking pockets by 2 if we don't" Peter saw the smile almost reach his friend's eyes.

"Any interesting cases lately?"

"You mean you don't know? Someone's been reading my e-mails"

"Allegedly" they both smiled.

"Jones has my old job… Diana moved to DC last week."

"Happily ever after…" Neal studied the wine in his glass

"Been kind of quiet at the office, actually…since…"

Neal looks at him now his expression wavering. "Bet you enjoy that." He started to smile but it died on his lips with a glimpse of Peter's expression. Silence hung in the air between them… "I'm sorry…" it's barely more than a whisper "I didn't have a choice"

"There is always a choice Neal! You let your friends think you were dead! Do you have any idea what that did to… everyone?"

"It was the right thing to do." He studied the glass in his hands for a moment "you told me once to do the right thing and let the chips fall where they may… It was the right thing."

"The right thing!" he snapped "do you know how many tears Elle cried for you?!"

"Not as many as she would for you" the answer was barely more than a whisper, as he turned away.

Peter stiffened … his retort faltering on his lips…the moment lingered "you thought you were protecting us?" A small nod is the only response. "From what?"

"From me!" in anyone else's voice the hitch would have been a sob. "I destroy everything good around me… Kate, Ellen…" he ran his fingers through his hair angrily

"Donny, Rico and Leo too?"

Neal nodded and turned to face him…his mask shattered "I killed them, Peter"

"I don't believe that."

"I may not have pulled the trigger but I might as well have. Donny was my best friend and I…it was my idea…" turning back to the window he clenched his fist against his thigh

"What happened Neal?" the younger man just shook his head in response. "You have to talk to Reynolds... Tell him what you know… for Donny"

"I can't. "He glanced at Peter before uttering two words Peter had never heard him say. "I'm… afraid."


	4. Chapter 4

_ "__What happened Neal?" the younger man just shook his head in response. "You have to talk to Reynolds... Tell him what you know… for Donny"_

_ "__I can't. "He glanced at Peter before uttering two words Peter had never heard him say. "I'm…_ afraid."

He knew it made him a coward, before he said it he knew but he couldn't stop the words. He was afraid, mind numbingly afraid. Just the thought of that night and all the years and cons since vanished, he was once more a cowering teenager. He hated this, feeling so helpless. He stared at the river, willing his mind to flow like the Siene, steady and calm. He didn't dare look at Peter. He knew the look his friend's face wore, disappointment, disapproval and probably a hint of pity.

The hand on his shoulder surprised him, Neal glanced at it. Then slowly he forced his eyes up to Peter's face. Not the look he was expecting. Peter smiled then firmly pulled him for a hug. For a moment, just one moment Neal let it happen. After 12 months of rigidly keeping the world at arm's length he couldn't believe how good it felt to just for a few seconds to not be alone.

Then with a firmness he didn't really have he pushed Peter away. "I'm fine" Neal knew that look, Peter was not buying it. He drew himself up straightening his shoulders and tried for a grin." You're really going to make me talk to him, aren't you?"

"Make you? No, but…" Peter looked at him "I know how much you wanted justice for… Kate and Ellen. I can't believe you really feel any different about…"

Neal looked at his hands. _He's right…I know he's right but… _He took a deep breath "I won't talk to Reynolds, Peter…" another deep breath "but I will talk to you… if he wants to listen in…" He managed a small shrug.

He took his time refilling his glass. Then gazed at his painting, it wasn't finished but… he couldn't think what it needed. He swapped it for a fresh canvas as Peter escorted the other agent into the room. Maybe painting would steady him enough to get through this. He adjusted the easel in front of the window… and settled his eyes on the river. He was a great con artist he could be like the river… steady, calm and strong, at least for a little while.

)()()()()()()()()()()()(

Reynolds stared at the door. The thought of kicking it in had flitted through his mind. Why had he let Burke go in there alone? Anything could be happening in there… He moved forward to grab the door knob when the door swung open. Burke slipped out into the hall and closed the door

"What are you doing?" Reynolds hissed "We are not leaving."

"No we're not… He's ready to talk to you."

Reynolds eyebrows arched incredulously "really...?"

"Before we go in Reynolds let's get one thing straight. You will not go in there and start throwing around crimes scene pictures…Neal is not your guy on this, but he just might know who is."

"You really believe that?"

"I do. You don't have to like him Reynolds but, he is your only lead right now…try treating him with a little decorum"

Reynolds nodded with a frown. "If he's not guilty…why did he challenge me to find evidence?" Burke just shrugged with a sigh.

"Because he's Neal." Burke opened the door and stepped back into the small apartment. "Come on" Reynolds noticed Caffrey casually swapping out one canvas for another and quietly studying the view out the large window…absently sipping a glass of red wine. "Still as cold as ice' he thought

Caffrey finally turned from the window when Burke said "Neal? You ready?" softly, gently Reynolds noted. The man nodded.

"Whenever you are." He looked pointedly at the recorder in Reynolds' hand

The agent flipped the switch "ok let's hear it. What do you know about the death of Donny Mitchel, Leo Davis, and Rico Mendez?"

"Everything" Caffrey said quietly as he turned back to his easel and began painting. "We got by on small stuff…" he smiled glancing at Burke "Donny taught me the basics of picking pockets…" Burke gave a tiny snort that might have been a smothered chuckle. "Then we had a brilliant idea… We heard a rumor about Kyle Nolan. He used to be a defense lawyer, the kind who would defend anyone as long as they could pay… the rumor was that some of his clients paid him in cash" he sent Reynolds a pointed look "the kind that could use a trip to the dry cleaners, that he kept it in a safe at his place… sometimes as much a 100 thousand. It sounded like a lot of money to us."

"You're confessing to robbing this Kyle Nolan?" Reynolds broke in

"Statute of limitations" Caffrey answered smugly grinning at him before turning back to the painting "Besides we didn't actually rob him…we planned to but … Breaking and entering is a pretty minor charge." He waited until Reynolds nodded then went on. "We watched him, he went out at 6:00 every Tuesday evening…and stayed away for about 3 hours… it was a good plan" he sent a look at Burke "For my first time… but we miscalculated."

"Miscalculated?" Burke asked sounding surprised

"Miscalculated how long it would take to shut down his security system… miscalculated how long the safe would take..."

"You miscalculated? On a safe?"

"Well it was my first one." The man sounded indignant. "And I did get it open." Burke's expression was openly amused at that "and the money was there… more than 100 thousand… a lot more, closer to 250. Then things went catastrophically wrong." He stared out the window silently a few seconds…then a few more

"What happened, Neal?" Burke prompted softly.

"Nolan came home early." He smirked "half an hour early... he had a gun. He said sit… there wasn't really any other option… no escape. We thought he was calling the police until… Guess he didn't want to risk them looking too closely at the money. Three men came...Dangerous men with more muscle than brains… and guns. 38 caliber." Caffrey shrugged "there must have been more than cash in the safe ...they kept asking what we saw…they didn't like our answers I guess… they tried to… persuade us to… be more cooperative…it was not a pleasant hour." The implication was clear. Reynolds glanced at Burke noticing his lips were tight, his eyes blazing. Caffrey inclined his head toward him as if expecting an outburst then went on. That same calm quiet voice as if he were discussing the weather… "One of them finally stopped long enough to take a call…I knew, we all knew what was coming next. They marched us outside and into a van… a brown van… Chevy…older…" Caffrey frowned

"Something wrong?" Reynold asked sharply

"I can't quite remember the plate number… there was a 7 and an A but… that's all I recall. I didn't really pay that much attention" with a shrug his face relaxed into his natural smirk "they drove about half an hour…when we stopped we were in the forest… a little dirt road. They pulled us into the woods about 50 yards from the van. Forced us down on our knees…" Caffrey stared at his painting thoughtfully before continuing "they shot Rico first, then Leo... then ...Donny." his tone was still conversational

"But not you?" Reynolds raised his eyebrow doubtfully. To his surprise the young man laughed, a short harsh sound.

"I got lucky…"

"How?"

"A car passed… the sound and the lights… they looked back, to make sure we weren't visible, I guess…" that sharp harsh laugh again "I didn't ask. I just ran… I found a highway and flagged down a trucker who was kind enough to give me a ride."

"Do you remember the name of the trucker?" Reynolds pushed.

"Bill… or Ben… something like that." Another look at Burke when the other man made a small sound in his throat. "I wasn't really in the mood for conversation. I remember the truck though… red... a Mack…Swift company... the plate was 8BT-26J."

"After 15 years you remember the license plate on the truck but not the van?"

"I got a pretty good look at it" the voice was almost sheepish

"Go on."

"That's about it. After I was in the cab... it was warm and dry. I felt relatively safe… I fell asleep pretty quickly. Next thing I remember clearly was in North Carolina."

"You went to sleep? After all of that..."

"Yeah. I was tired"

"So you went sleep?"

"Yeah… is something wrong with that?"

"When did this happen, Neal?" Burke broke in

"March 14th 2000" a tiny frown "might have been the 15th by the time I stopped the trucker."

"So it was passed your bed time" Reynolds pushed.

"Neal…"The other agent's voice was disturbingly kind. "Do you remember what these men looked like?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"You think you could get Agent Reynolds a sketch of them?" Caffrey nodded

"Good" Reynolds said "you can work with an artist when we get back to the States." The other 2 men grinned openly at that, and Caffrey picked up a pad. Then he slowly flexed his fingers a couple of times

"It doesn't have to be now, Neal" Burke lay his hand one the younger man's arm gently "soon but not right now. I'll be back in a little while… you going to be ok?"

"I'm fine"

The walk down the stairs was quiet… Peter glanced at Reynolds as they stepped out onto the sidewalk. He was waiting for the other man to say something. He cleared his throat

"His story is consistent with the injuries found on the remains"

"So you believe him?"

"I believe he was there…" Reynolds sighed "I need to confirm the rest of it"

Peter nodded… "Of course"

"Even if every word he said is true…That man is a heartless son of a b*#$&."

"You'd think so… wouldn't you" Peter smiled

"He just described a triple murder like he was talking about a walk in the park. Those kids… Donny Mitchel was just 17…"

"You don't know him… this wasn't as easy as he made it look."

"You really believe that, don't you?"

"Yes. I know Neal… he's not a violent man… one of the farthest from it I've ever met, actually"

"He may have never resorted to violence yet… But he is a sociopath… he has no moral compass. I understand people like that… I see them all the time in my field. They are incredibly dangerous."

"Neal is not dangerous."

"He is a monster. It may not have shown through yet but it will! It always does. Sociopaths don't care who they hurt. I know" Reynolds voice broke "A man like that is the reason I'm a single dad."

Peter's head jerked up, suddenly comprehending Reynolds obsession. Quietly he studied the other man's pain filled eyes, trying to think of something adequate to say. "I'm sorry…" was all he managed.


	5. Chapter 5

"Who said I was going back?" Neal's voice was light, his face trying for half teasing, but Peter could see the terror that still lurked in the back of his eyes.

"You know you made that choice when you decided to come clean about this."

"I can't come back … I'm dead, remember?" He grinned at his friend. "How are you planning to explain that?"

"The same way I explained it the last time you faked your… death." Peter's voice held just a hint of hardness… anger. Clearly he was still not quite forgiven for that trick.

Neal sighed… resignation in that sound. "I don't want to go back. I have a life here."

"Really?" Peter glanced around the apartment. Elegant but…empty. "Girlfriend?"

"No." Neal's smile looked just the tiniest bit forced. "I haven't had much time."

"Friends…?" there was no answer. The silence spoke volumes. "You've been isolating yourself here. I would think coming home where people care about you would be a relief"

"I work with people. I'm fine'

Peter bit his tongue, and took a deep breath before he redirected the conversation back on topic. "You are the only witness to a triple murder… Reynolds is not going to let you get away with hiding here."

"He doesn't believe me Peter." Neal looked at him knowingly "and even if he did… if I go back, they are going to lock me up. I ran."

"No they won't. You were a free man when you…left. You had a contract remember. Unless…" Peter's smile slipped into a small grin. "You do have access to a lot of museum security plans."

"I do…" the grin was a bit less tight

"You haven't been tempted to… replace some of the older art have you?"

"It's not a crime to be tempted." His eyes were laughing at last.

"No it's not… though tempted changes to doing pretty easily with you."

"If there are any forgeries in the places I've worked the last year, they are not mine." His voice was solemn but his eyes continued to sparkle mischievously "unless, of course, they were there before" Peter gave an exaggerated sigh and shot his friend a glare.

"Then you have no reason not to come home."

"Yes I do." Neal's voice held unyielding stubbornness.

"Then let's hear it."

"I'm not your problem anymore, Peter." The blue eyes of his friend were suddenly serious. "If I come back to the States it will be with Reynolds as his witness or prisoner. Whichever he decides I am. You don't have to take care of me."

"Yes I do Neal. You're my friend."

"Not anymore." There was a fierce determination in those eyes "your friend died last year. I'm Nick Collins now and I can't" the pain on Peter's face choked off Neal's voice. His resolve visibly wavered. "Just go home to your wife and son…and stay as far away from me as you can."

_He thought he was protecting us… he's still protecting us_ "I can't do that" Peter kept his voice even "Because whether you want me to be or not I will always be your friend."

"I don't want you to be! I don't want you within a hundred miles of me!" Neal tried to look angry and indifferent, but he knew he failed. In his heart he was desperate for his friends and his home. A year spent alone after knowing how it feels to be cared for… it had been harder than he expected.

"I'm not going anywhere." Peter looked him straight in the eye "Reynolds seems to be a good agent but I don't trust him to take care of you."

"Peter, please." There is open desperation there now in the soft plea "they are going to find me."

"Who?"

"Whoever this is… not the trigger men but whoever Nolan called. Sooner or later they will find me and I will not let you get caught in the crossfire."

"And I'm not going to let them get to you either."

"No. It's not worth the risk. I know what a good friend is worth, Peter, and I don't want you involved in this." Peter glared at him, resisted the urge to shake him. Then he sighed

"I'm not going to let you die… again."

"I know…last year…upset you, because I was your responsibility but…I'm not now." Peter's face twisted slightly as he opened his mouth to interrupt but Neal continued. "Please, I'll be ok. You said Reynolds is a good agent…then he'll do his job, even though he doesn't like me."

"Not until he confirms your story. You are stuck with me at least until then. No more argument. You are coming to New York until he is certain you told him the truth." His only answer was a reluctant nod.

)()()()()()()()()()()()(

Thomas Reynolds had never been able to sleep on a plane but he reclined his seat and pretended to, so he didn't have to maintain a conversation with his companions. He could hear them talking softly over the hum of the engines. Oddly enough agent Burke and Caffrey seemed to enjoy tormenting each other. The verbal barbs they threw at each other would have been the end of some relationships but these two seemed to take them playfully. He thought listening to them while they felt unobserved would be enlightening as to just how far Caffrey had Burke manipulated but so far the conversation had been entirely light with occasional questions about mutual friends.

With a sigh he tried to find a more comfortable position and let his mind wander… Molly. She drifted into his mind as she always did when he didn't push her away. He could see her as clearly as ever, three and a half years hadn't faded the image at all. Her beautiful golden green eyes, the curve of her lips, her long auburn hair brushing her hips. He could still feel her slim curves in his arms, still smell the warm sweet scent of her.

He tried to push the thought of her away because he knew where his mind would go next if he didn't, but he failed. He saw her … just the way she looked that last day. The park, her laugh, her eyes filled with love and joy, the swirl of her hair. At six months pregnant her normally slim form was rounded, full. They were in the park. A beautiful day, she wanted to meet him in the park for lunch. Molly loved to be outside. While he watched her he was scheming, planning. She wasn't the type to get married because of the pregnancy but once the baby came he would propose… he knew just the ring she would love.

In his mind he saw the man coming, running toward Molly. Thomas saw the gun in his hand, but he was frozen to the spot, unable to move. He heard the crack of the shot, echoing forever. As she fell the man stepped over her as if she was nothing…just litter on the sidewalk. He never paused, not even for a heartbeat...never missed a step. Thomas ran to her… held her. He felt the moment her heart stopped… the paramedics did CPR all the way to the hospital because the baby was alive… they could still save his daughter, they told him, but Molly, his beautiful Molly was gone. Emily came into the world 2 lbs. and 12 ounces … almost 3 months to early and without a mother.

"She was in my way." The man shrugged when they caught him, casually, without regret.

"they shot Rico first, then Leo... then ...Donny" Caffrey's voice sounded very much the same two days ago, except for the slight hesitation as if he were trying to remember the boy's name. Donny Mitchel was17… beaten half to death, shot in the back of the head and left to die alone in the forest. Caffrey couldn't be bothered to remember his name.

Reynolds felt sick, he hated cases that involved guys like that… and worse this time the monster very well might not be going to jail. If Caffrey was telling the truth…Reynolds snapped his eyes open and ran a shaky hand through his hair, sweat trickled down his face.

"Are you ok?" Caffrey sounded almost sincerely concerned. Reynolds glared at him and stood up. "Two more hours on this flight… just two more hours with the man." He told himself.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Reynolds left them at the airport with a promise that once he had compared Neal's version of events to the evidence… if it held up he would arrange a formal protection detail. He barely glanced at the sketches offered…though he did take them. Neal watched him go quietly.

"He really doesn't like me." Peter smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

"You are something of an acquired taste."

"You liked me when you met me."

"I had been tracking you for 3 years. Come on, let's get you home"

"Home?"

"Elisabeth may have mentioned to June that you are alive"

"She shouldn't have done that… these people are dangerous."

"She has agreed to take a vacation… once she sees you."

Neal nodded "I still don't like it. They could follow her, hurt her. At the very least her home could be damaged."

"I think she is willing to take that risk" a familiar voice broke in.

"Jones?" Neal grinned "Peter is there anyone you didn't tell" Jones clasped his shoulder to assure himself the man in front of him was solid.

"Good to see you Neal." He said quietly "been pretty boring around the office without you." The other man grinned.

"Wasn't expecting you to meet us at the airport."

"Peter asked me to handle the security arrangements for Mr. Nick Collins… discreetly. Speaking of… I have 4 people lined up boss, not counting you and myself. Two agents who will be glad to see…Collins, and two newbies who won't recognize him."

"Thank you Jones." Peter told the younger agent.

"You really think these people will come for him after all this time?"

"I don't know."

Conversation turned to lighter things as they rode to the mansion. Neal couldn't help an honest smile as they pulled up in front of the house. Home… nowhere else in his life had ever felt so much like home. June met them at the door herself. Without a word she embraced Neal the moment he stepped through the door, silent tears on her cheeks.

"I can't tell you how good it is to see you, sweetheart." She almost whispered, when she allowed him to breathe. "How have you been? You look like you lost weight… have you been taking care of yourself?" she didn't let him get an answer out before she pulled him in for another hug. Shocked he managed a look at Peter over her shoulder. He had never seen June this emotional and he wasn't entirely sure what caused it. Was she really that lonely here in this big house? When she finally let go with a murmured apology, Neal gave her a gentle smile and wiped the tears from her cheeks softly.

"It's good to see you too. "He lay his hand on her arm "I missed you."

"I kept your room like you left it…well mostly." She gave him an affectionate smile "I'm afraid your friends took a few little things after…"the older woman swallowed hard. "They all wanted to remember you. I could hardly tell them no…" there was an apologetic tone to the helpless shrug she gave.

"Thank you June. You don't have to do this… I feel terrible about sending you out of your own home."

"You stay as long as you need to. And Neal, sweetheart, be safe" she wrapped him in one last hug before she let him go upstairs.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Neal stared at the painting…it wasn't finished but he still couldn't think what it needed. The trees and the stream that flowed wildly between them were dark… haunting…cold. _Running… splashing through the stream, slipping in the mud on the bank… cold, cold rain on his neck._ He shivered. He hoped that being back here, in this place that would always feel like home would help, but… the painting hung on the easel as disturbing as ever. He had painted a nightmare, his deepest darkest fear, maybe there was no way to fix it.

The young agent sitting on his couch cleared his throat softly. Neal glanced at him, he was leafing through a magazine absently. The kid was obviously bored. Babysitting an artist while he stared at a painting for hours was clearly not the exciting job he joined the FBI to do. Neal grinned at the kid. "Protection detail is pretty boring, huh." The young man's eyes darted toward him. Neal's grin widened.

"That obvious?"

"Pretty obvious."

"Sorry, Mr. Collins." He sounded sheepish

"It's Nick, agent Thompson

"Jason" Neal's smile relaxed a little, putting people at ease was still what he did best.

"Not as bad as the van though." Jason stared at him with open curiosity

"No, not as bad as the van."

"Hungry?"

"What?"

"You've been sitting here for 6 hours today… are you hungry Jason?"

"I am actually… should I call for something?" Neal laughed and gestured to the kitchen.

"Oh….you want to cook" clearly surprised

"Well the fridge is stocked. And there is nothing like homemade..."

"My mom always says that."

"Smart lady." Jason beamed. "Call Mike in from the hall and we will make some dinner." Neal didn't mind take out occasionally but, three days of carefully screened take out was more than enough. The first day Peter and Jones had stayed. Today he had been introduced to these 2 boys. Neal considered how much of his life he had spent running from and working with the FBI… it wasn't surprising really that being protected by them felt … almost like coming home.

Within minutes he had the two young agents laughing while he cooked. The tense atmosphere lightened dramatically. After dinner Mike returned to his station outside the door and Neal waved Jason away… offering his shower and promising not to go out on the terrace. A few moments alone was just what he needed. He was content for the first time in a long time.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Peter glanced at his phone when it rang. He should have been home by now. Elle probably had dinner ready half an hour ago but his stop for diapers had taken far longer than it should have. He sighed as he grabbed the ringing phone. "Hon I'm on my way-"

"Pe…ter" Not Elle…

"Neal? What's wrong?"

"Found….me…" He was already turning the car toward the mansion… it was only a couple of blocks but the silence that followed on the other end of the line made it seem like a hundred miles. He sprinted into the house and up the stairs.

Agent Michael Jefferies sat at his post outside the apartment door he glanced up as the ASAC rushed toward him

"Sir?" he asked as Peter shoved the door open.

Peter froze… his mind did not process the shattered wooden frame of the French door… or the blood… he couldn't see past two blue eyes staring back at him…Vacant eyes that did not track his movements as he stepped into the room.


	6. Chapter 6

Reynolds tapped his foot impatiently. He had been waiting for Benjamin Lawrence in the southeast corporate offices at Swift trucking for two hours. Finding out they actually had a truck, fifteen years ago, with the license number Caffrey gave him took about an hour. It took the company 3 days to come up with the driver's name, but they finally came through. He was told the man had to unload and park his truck before Reynolds could talk to him. So he waited…

Finally Lawrence came in glancing around nervously.

"Mr. Lawrence? I'm agent Thomas Reynolds FBI… do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"Sure … What's this about?" Reynolds quietly held up the picture of the three boys

"First of all do you recognize the boy in the middle?" for a minute he thought the trucker was going to collapse as all the blood ran out of his face. Then he visibly collected himself.

"You aren't going to tell my boss about this, are you…? I need my job." Reynolds nodded

"Between you and me."

"Ok … I'm not supposed to pick up hitchhikers it could get me fired… but…I made an exception for that kid."

"Why?"

"I had nightmares about that night for months."

"He was that scary?"

"He looked that bad…D*#$* kid ran out in front of my truck. In the middle of the night, I almost hit him. Couldn't have been two feet from him by the time I got the rig stopped. Before I could open my door to see if I killed the kid, he was practically climbing my side of the cab."

"He ran out in front of you?"

"Yeah and he looked like he escaped from a slasher flick."

"What do you mean?"

"Someone had beat the heck out of him for starters. One eye was completely swollen shut, lip was busted, and nose had been bleeding, his cheek too. One whole side of his face was purple. He didn't look a day over 16… he was shivering so hard I could hear his teeth before I opened the door, I swear. No coat you know… and it was cold that night… 35...40 degrees and drizzling. The kid was soaked and muddy…leaves in his hair… grass all over his clothes… the kid was begging for a ride… choking trying to catch his breath."

"You gave him a ride?"

"What was I supposed to do… leave him there? Let the poor kid freeze, or let whatever he was running from catch him"

"So you took a risk

"I pulled him up into my sleeper. Told him to take the bed and wrap up…"

"And he did?"

"He said something about not getting my bed dirty and sat on the floor back there. He did wrap up in the blanket though… leaned his head back against the side of the cab and he was asleep in about 10 minutes."

"He did fall asleep? How far did you take him?"

"North Carolina. Henderson…it's about 4 hours from where I picked him up. There's a truck stop there I like to stop at…"

"And Henderson North Carolina on March 15th of 2000 that's the last place you saw him?"

"Yeah… I've wondered a 1000 times if the kid made it… I wish I had been able to do more for him."

"What do you mean… if he made it?

"See that's the part I had nightmares about… I pulled off for some coffee… figured I'd buy the kid a cup too before I left him… but when I tried to wake him up he wouldn't… not really anyway."

"Wouldn't wake up?"

"I yelled at him and got him to open his eyes for a couple of seconds but… so I tried shaking him... I grabbed his arm and the poor kid screamed and tried to shove me away… but then he was right back out. So I pulled the blanket off… that's when I saw the blood… all over him all, over my sleeper… I was almost sick."

"His blood? What did you do? Did you call for help?" a police report would be helpful Reynolds thought.

"Yeah his blood and lots of it. I drove him to the hospital… got him on his feet… sort of. Half dragged him inside and left him in the waiting room… Look I'm not proud of it. I should have done more but… I needed this job I had a wife and a baby… and if they found out I picked up a hiker, especially a kid who was probably a minor and took him across state lines..." He shook his head and shrugged.

"I cleaned up the blood and finished my run and never told a soul until today, but when I think of the poor kid back there in my sleeper bleeding for 4 hours it makes me sick. I never even got his name…Do you know what happened to him? Did he make it?"

"He made it." Reynolds couldn't help taking pity on the man. After all he was a decent man who was torn by concern and regret for a boy he met only once. "He's a witness to a crime… I'm following up on his statement. Thank you for your cooperation Mr. Lawrence" He excused himself.

Well that confirmed Caffrey's story… pretty spectacularly, Reynolds sighed, or did it? He could have paid off the driver… he had a reputation for being smart… thinking 3 steps ahead. It was possible, not probable, he admitted but possible and he would be negligent if he didn't make sure.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

A blink…

Just a tiny movement but Neal blinked

And Peter's vision cleared. Suddenly he could see the phone still clasped in his friend's left hand, the blood… He could hear Jeffries behind him calling for an ambulance, Neal's choking shallow breathing, the shower running in the bathroom. He was across the room on his knees in a heartbeat…

"Towels! Jefferies get me some towels!" the wound on the lower left side of his friend's chest was ugly… sniper shots always were. Ripped outward, he swallowed… an exit wound. That meant… he clapped his left hand over the wound he could see. Then ignoring the voice in his head that screamed "don't move him" he slowly carefully slid his hand under the younger man's back. He sucked in his breath as his friend tensed… "Sorry… I'm sorry. I have to find the entrance wound." No response… the blue eyes didn't focus on his face. There it was, his right shoulder. Peter tried not to imagine the damage a high velocity 50 caliber bullet could do ripping diagonally through his friend's chest as he cover the second hole with his right hand. The position meant he was effectively cradling the younger man in his arms. He tried not to think of temporary passage channels…a trail of shredded tissue…3 inches in diameter… or how Neal didn't cry out from the movement. He clenched his jaw. The picture of Neal in the morgue last year floated through his mind. He pushed it aside. He could fall apart later, right now he needed to be calm.

Jefferies was back with the towels and Thompson in tow… wearing pants and a t-shirt, no shoes.

"I'm sorry sir. He told me I could…" the boy looked sick. Peter managed a tight nod, he would deal with him later.

A cold hand pushed against his wrist, he glanced at Neal's face. He was trying to focus, his lips moving soundlessly "I know it hurts…I'm sorry." At least he was responding.

"Go…"he whispered, "should...n't … be… here…" Peter fought the urge to grasp the icy fingers that fumbled at his hand. He pushed harder on the wound… but the gesture seemed so useless given the type of wound. The thought made it hard not to just stop and comfort his friend. Let him feel safe in his last few moments. For a year he regretted not saying… No… Not now. He was not giving up yet… not quite yet but...

"No. you're my friend. I'm here and I'm staying… and so are you." He didn't believe it…not at all… the damage something like this causes… But he didn't think he could stand to **_watch_** him die. Afterward was bad enough. He let Jefferies tuck the towels under his hands.

"Dan…ger…ous" he was fighting to keep his eyes open…

"I see that. It's ok… it's going to be ok." Lying was not his strong suit but to keep the fear out of those eyes…Peter forced a smile. The image of that body bag last year floated though his mind, smothering his effort.

The paramedics were there then… pulling Neal away. Peter ran his hands through is hair and backed away… turned his back on the scene… he didn't want to see anymore. He stared at the splintered door and out into the night… how far away had the shot come from. That's what he needed to do focus on, who did this… that was better than… he glanced over his shoulder as the swirl of activity around his friend left the room. One last glimpse of Neal's face, deathly pale except for the blood that trailed down his cheek, before they took him away. "This is wrong… he can't die…"Peter closed his eyes at the thought. "He just came home. I made him come home…" He waved Jefferies to follow them… "Stay with him. Don't let him out of your sight."

"Boss? What happened?" Peter took a breath and faced Jones.

"We need to get a trajectory on the shot."

"You're not going to follow him?" Peter shook his head_ "I'm sorry we lost him_" no he couldn't face that again. Couldn't be the one to ID and claim his friend's body in the morgue again either. Jefferies could handle all of that.

"We need to focus on finding the shooter."

"Ok Peter."

"And the bullet will be somewhere in the kitchen."

"On it…"

Peter watched the team work. He knew they didn't really need him but the alternative was… _he never even met the boy. _It came out of nowhere and he almost choked at the thought. He pushed it away. 30 minutes passed, an hour… he knew he should go. Should be the one who…but he just couldn't do it… couldn't bring himself to face that goodbye again.

"Peter" Jones voice cut through his thoughts "you're going to want to see this." He held up an evidence bag with a bullet. Peter gulped

"What have you got?"

"FMJ round for a 223/5.56 … a few years ago this was military issue" Peter nodded "Boss this is good news actually… well as good as we could hope for."

"What do you mean?"

" Military stopped using it because of its lethality issues" he smiled grimly " for starters it's only 45 caliber and it loses velocity easily… only has a range of around 300 yards … even then sometimes it… passes through… the target… without being… fatal."

"Thanks… any luck finding where the shot came from?"

"Working on it… boss you don't need to be here. I can call you when we get anything."

"I'm not sure I want to be there."

"If he is alive, Peter, he's going to need someone."

"You're right… I should…" he sighed, time to cowboy up and do what he needed to

"You need someone to give you a ride?"

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Reynolds paced the small office. Asking around the Henderson hospital for 2 days had led him here, the office of a semi-retired doctor. Dr. Gerald Dalton was 63 with greying hair and gentle smile lines around his eyes. He had the look of someone's favorite grandfather. He studied the file on his desk without looking up for a long time.

"I remember the boy...but I pulled this" he tapped the file softly "is to make sure I recall all the details."

"But you remember treating this young man?" he pushed the picture across the table again.

"I do. It was an unusual situation."

"How so?"

"This is a small town … we have our problems but it isn't often we have an 18 year old kid just dropped off in the lobby with multiple gunshot wounds… after that kind of beating."

"He had been shot?"

"Three times. None of them would have been life threatening if they had been treated in a timely fashion. One through and through in the left calf, the second cracked a rib but didn't penetrate… left a 4 inch gash in his side, the third was the most troubling…it was lodged against his right humorous, causing a hairline fracture of the bone. Because he had not received treatment immediately blood loss had become a serious issue. The boy was only partially conscious, in shock." Dr. Dalton shook his head sadly

"The injuries couldn't have been self-inflicted, could they?"

"Only if the kid could have shot himself from behind, at least 50 feet away. He certainly couldn't have given himself the beating."

Reynolds thought about the three dead boys. Donny had 2 cracked ribs when he died, Leo had a broken cheek bone, Rico a broken nose. At this point similar injuries on the survivor would no longer surprise him, he admitted.

"Pretty bad huh?"

"Two broken ribs which had caused quite a bit of soft tissue damage, some blood in the chest cavity. It was fortunate his lung didn't collapse. There were also 3 cracked ribs, 5 bruised, hairline fracture of his right cheekbone, orbital socket fracture, I have no idea how many bruises, a laceration on his cheek that required 3 stitches, his right lung was bruised. Left wrist was badly sprained also. He had several smaller lacerations. Both knees were skinned as well as his palms and right forearm."

"He was in pretty bad shape by the time you saw him then?"

"Yes…most definitely. For a few hours it didn't look good, but the kid was a fighter. He pulled through, although he was unconscious for over 24 hours. The police documented his injuries and took his clothes as evidence, but once he was awake he refused to talk to them. Checked himself out within 12 hours of waking up. I would have kept him for at least 3 or 4 days but he insisted. Walked out of here alone in a pair of borrowed scrubs. No one even came to get him"

"I see."

"The poor boy was terrified. He acted like he thought someone coming to finish him off. Watching the door and the window, refusing to let himself rest. He even tried to refuse pain medication. He never said anything about what happened to him… in fact he didn't say much of anything except to answer a direct question? Even then… he kept it short. Not that unusual after a severe trauma like that but… Agent Reynolds I assume you have some idea what happened to that boy"

"I can't go into specifics but he was the only surviving victim… of a terrible crime." Reynolds swallowed… victim, had he really just called Caffrey a victim. "Do you have better description?" he asked himself. "no" but his whole mind revolted against the idea for a moment… men like that were not victims… they hurt people, not the other way around but, maybe this time...for one moment he felt a flicker of sympathy for the man. Then he heard Caffrey's calm voice describing the murders… sometimes sociopaths were created by trauma…

In the end though there was no denying in this case… whether he liked the man or not… Caffrey was his fourth victim. Which meant the clothes the local PD collected 15 years ago were evidence in his case. He would collect them and go home to arrange protection for the man. He did give his word after all. It also meant he needed to take a serious look at the sketches Caffrey gave him and find those men.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

"Cautiously optimistic" The doctor had said… "Cautiously optimistic that he will survive." Not the words Peter had expected and dreaded. It wasn't a guarantee but it was really the best he could hope for right now. The man had talked about the damage to Neal's lungs, blood loss and the splintered shoulder blade… then he looked Peter straight in the eye

"Your friend is extremely lucky to be alive. The bullet passed between his aortic and pulmonary arteries without damaging either of them. That is nearly impossible. The bullet must have hit something else before it hit his shoulder blade which slowed it considerably." The wooden frame of the glass door came to mind. "That means the damage was no worse than a standard 45 at relatively close range. It helped tremendously that he received treatment as quickly as he did… even a few minutes longer…" he left it there "there is potential nerve damage in his shoulder, but I think his chances of getting through this are good."

For the first time all evening Peter could breathe. Yes, he was sitting in an ICU room but it beat the H*** out of the morgue.

"Ok … just say it. We need to do a much better job protecting you." He patted his friend's left shoulder gently with a soft smile. He didn't expect a response. Then more seriously "I promise we are going to do much, much better. I'm not going to let them get near you again. You have to meet my boy… I haven't even told you what we named him yet. I couldn't think how to without it sounding…"

He sank into the chair.

He was going to be here a while

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Reynolds sighed there was no avoiding it any longer. He had to call Burke and admit Caffrey was in fact a witness, no a victim, not a suspect. He was a man who could admit he was wrong. He still didn't have to like the man but, he needed to let the other agent know his plan to protect the man until Wit Sec could take over.

The phone rang long enough he thought it was going to go to voicemail before…

"Burke."

"This is Thomas Reynolds."

"Yes." The word was harsh

"Caffrey's story checked out… I'm arranging the protection detail as we -" a choked bitter laugh cut him off.

"You're a little late Reynolds."

"What do you mean?"

"They found him…"


	7. Chapter 7

He didn't need Burke to tell him he had lost his witness… Even if Caffrey survived the injury, there was no way he would testify now. He would cut and run… men like him didn't do personal risk. Not like this and not without a big payout. Reynolds swore under his breath, as he strode into the New York hospital.

The conversation with the other agent had been brief. Clearly Burke was not in the mood to discuss the situation on the phone, his answers clipped and sharp. All Reynolds got from him was that there had been a sniper. A hospital and room number were the only indication his witness was alive. So here he was at Columbia University Medical Center wandering through this maze of a place to find the room. He did feel responsible for this, despite his dislike for Caffrey. He had allowed his personal feelings about the man to affect his job. He should have arranged full protection as soon as he talked to the trucker, but he had been reluctant to believe Caffrey could be innocent in this. There was of course no denying that now.

He shifted the file under his arm, trying not to think too much about the pictures it contained. The boy in those pictures was barely recognizable as the man he met in France. He wanted to believe that Caffrey had somehow deserved it but… d*** he looked young and helpless, and that made it hard to convince himself. It appeared for some reason that Caffrey had taken the brunt of the beating… if the number of fractures could be believed. That disturbed Reynolds. Caffrey's ability to manipulate people should have directed the worst of the pain away from himself. So why did the opposite seem to be true? It just didn't track with what he knew about the man, he thought as he finally found the room.

With a deep breath he stepped inside. Not surprisingly Burke was there, in the corner speaking quietly into his phone. Reynolds glanced at the man in the bed and cringed slightly, he didn't look good at all, Three days after the incident and an oxygen mask still covered his mouth and nose, right arm immobilized, 2 IVs, a drainage tube in his chest… he didn't stir as the door closed. Thomas' conscience dug at him…he could have prevented this.

Reynolds turned his eyes away as Burke ended his call.

"How is he?" he asked …it was a stupid question but he had to say something.

"They took the ventilator out this morning… he's in and out… but baring any complications he's going to make it."

"That's good."

"I told him you were a good agent… that you would do your job and protect him." Reynolds swallowed. The accusation in Burke's tone stung. The urge to defend himself rose in his throat but he pushed it back.

"I messed up. I should have listened to you. I have a protection detail ready… until the Marshals get things arranged to relocate him." The laugh surprised him. Reynold met the other agent's eye "What?"

"Neal doesn't trust the marshals… you send him to Wit Sec you will never see him again."

"I've accepted that he won't testify. I still have a responsibility to make sure he isn't hurt … at least… not anymore by what he told us."

"I wouldn't write off the possibility of him sticking this out just yet… Neal wants justice for his friends. I know you don't believe that but…" Burke sighed "The Marshals would be a mistake. Trust me, he has no respect for them."

"Why not?"

"He has his reasons."

"Which you aren't going to tell me, right?"

"Right. I let this happen to him… I'm not going to follow that up by betraying his trust." The intensity in Burke's voice surprised Reynolds. "You really should read the rest of his file… beyond one word in a psych profile." Burke met his eye "you might find some things that would surprise you."

"I'll get right on that." He couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice "look I intend to do my job but I don't have to like him… I will never like him!" His voice rose in pitch, then dropped back when the sleeping man stirred and Burke shot him an angry look. "But given the contents of this file…I have a certain responsibly to him"

Burke held out his hand, Thomas hesitated. "It's not pretty." Burkes jaw clenched but he took the file and opened it. The silence that followed while he flipped through the pictures and documents was tense. Finally Burke murmured something that sounded like "oh Neal…"

"His injuries… from the beating..." Thomas began "I keep trying to think why he appears to have… been beaten so much more severely than the others." Burke's knowing smile caught his eye. "You have an idea?"

"Let's say I'm not entirely surprised."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Neal pushed himself up carefully on his left elbow, trying to ignore the angry gopher that burrowed furiously through his chest. He fumbled for the button to raise the bed a bit more. Then dropped his head back against the pillow to breathe for several long seconds. It was quiet, he was apparently alone. He didn't know why that surprised him but he seemed to remember someone being here whenever he woke up, though admittedly the memories were pretty vague. He felt more awake now than he had before. Breathing hurt but pain meant alive and judging by the tube in his chest and the bandages that was important to remember.

He tried to recall what happened but nothing came to mind. He remembered flying back to New York… he remembered he was back… at… June's. There had been agents there right? He tried to recall their names… a sudden thought struck him. They were there to protect him. If he was here… he swallowed, trying not to panic. Faces came to mind suddenly… young smiling faces. He tried to push them aside.

The door opened softly. Peter stepped inside and smiled at him. He looked concerned

"Hey." Neal tried for a grin

"Hi…" Peter seemed to be trying to read him. "You ok?"

"I'm fine."

"Right" Peter grinned "you have looked around right?"

"Point taken." He gingerly touched the tube "I'm alive…Judging by this… I'm guessing that's doing pretty good."

"Don't touch that." His hand move to catch Neal's. It was an automatic response. Neal shot him a questioning look "Sorry… the last couple of days…I imagine it's not really comfortable."

"Not really… how long has it been?"

"6 days." Silence followed that.

"Peter? he hesitated not sure he really wanted to know" The agents who were with me… are they…?"His fist gripped the thin blanket, his whole body tense.

"They're fine …it was a sniper… one shot. We found where it came from but… the shooter was long gone… we're still looking."

"At least no one was hurt" he sank back into the pillow relieved sigh on his lips. He didn't expect the sudden anger in Peter's eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"Someone **_was _**hurt Neal. You."

"You know what I meant."

"I do." Peter shot him that look, the one that said he felt like he was talking to a child. "You meant no one important…"

"Not exactly but…"he managed to shrug his left shoulder without wincing. Peter looked frustrated again

"Neal I want you to listen to me. Really listen." He nodded "You are important. Your life counts too."

"I know that."

"DO YOU?!" Neal couldn't stop the flinch. Peter's voice dropped immediately "I'm sorry. It just…I don't think you get it. I wasn't **_upset_** last year… I was devastated."

"Peter…" he stopped not sure what to say.

"Do you remember the last thing you said to me before you… left?" He waited for the nod "Well I don't think you understand… you're my… best friend too and I though we lost you."

"I'm sorry… I just wanted to be sure… you didn't get hurt…"

"Well I did. We all did, because we lost you. You know how much it hurts to lose someone you care about. You put us all though that. Now you keep making light of that."

"I'm not trying too…" his voice faltered under Peter's glare… then looked away when the look softened to affectionate exasperation.

"I believe you… you honestly don't get how much you were missed." Neal struggled for a way to answer that…

"I'm sorry…I should have remembered that you always did see me as more than … than I am" Peter's sigh drew Neal's eyes to his face "Even you sometimes admitted … I'm not exactly an asset to society."

"Neal…'

"Reynolds is right about me, you know. I'm a sociopath… the things I've done… I don't feel guilty. I want to. I try to but I just don't…"

"I read the same psychological profile he did. It doesn't say that."

"It doesn't?"

"No… it say sociopathic **_tendencies…_**there is a difference. It goes on to say you don't fit the classic definition because instead of an over developed sense of self and a lack of empathy… you have low self-esteem and are highly empathic…"

"Low self-esteem? Really Peter?" he tried for a cocky grin but pain and exhaustion made it fall short.

"Admittedly you do a good job of hiding it." Peter sighed. He sounded like he was trying to be patient. "Sociopaths have no moral compass..."

"And I do?" his look was ironic

"You do. It doesn't always point north but …."

"Wrong things for the right reasons?"

"You should work on that." They both smiled. "I want you to meet my boy … when you're up to it."

"I'd like that."

"We named him Neal." The honest shock in his friend's eyes almost made Peter laugh.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

He stared at his right arm… he could see it there… could feel it, in a manner of speaking, pins and needles that never went away, but no matter how hard he tried it didn't move. He concentrated on the lifeless fingers trying to will them to wiggle… even just a tiny bit. Something close to fear coiled around his heart. His hand… his right hand would not move. "Don't panic" he told himself "maybe it has something to do with the pain meds." but his heart sank despite his rationale. The thought of a lifetime of never holding a pencil, a paintbrush, a chisel… made him feel sick. It couldn't be true, it couldn't. Suddenly it was very, very cold. His heart hammered in his throat. "Breathe" he reminded himself.

A light tap on the door brought his head up as his smile slipped into place. Dr. Andrews stepped into the room…

"How are you this morning, Mr. Collins?"

"Better since they took that …thing… out of my side." The doctor smiled.

"I would imagine… how is your pain?"

"Fine."

"Mr. Collins… must I remind you to be honest with me. I am well aware of the damage to your body."

"I can handle it." He steeled himself…

"You need to take the medication… allow yourself to heal." The doctor pinned him with a look before continuing. "How's your breathing. O2 levels are staying above 90 for the most part but… they are still dipping more often than I like… I'll increase the oxygen we have you on" Neal nodded…giving a tight smile. His lungs were healing… he knew it would take time but they would be fine… his worries lay elsewhere...

"Doctor… can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"My arm…" he trailed off as he caught the sympathetic look. With a gulp he forced himself to go on "its permanent isn't it."

"Honestly…" the doctor took the limp appendage in his hand, studying it "I don't know… the nerve isn't severed, but it is clearly damaged. You have some feeling in it, correct?"

"Like it's asleep."

"We need to do another surgery to repair your shoulder blade… that may help. And you can probably begin therapy in a couple of days… We will know more in a few weeks." His tone was gentle as he continued "but yes, it is possible it may be permanent. I'm sorry."

"Thank you." He could not force himself to smile but he met the doctor's eye without quailing.

"It also may not be… it is possible you could regain some or even most of the use of it. I honestly don't know. I don't want you to worry too much about it right now… Be patient Mr. Collins. You have been through a major trauma. Give your body time to… adjust" he nodded again

"But you don't anticipate me ever regaining full use of my hand?"

"Full use? I'm afraid that is unlikely… there will at the very least be some loss of fine motor control." The doctor looked appropriately sympathetic as he lifted the lifeless arm back into the sling… "I am sorry."

"I appreciate your candor." He didn't let the stark terror in his mind show in his face. The familiar mask fell in place while his mind spiraled… never paint again, never draw, no more card tricks…no more… no more… no more… the tears came when he was alone. He wept silently until he drifted off into darkness.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Peter watched Neal tickle his little boy…lift the blanket to play peak-a-boo as the baby giggled. He had imagined this moment with such pain for so long and now…he couldn't stop grinning. It didn't matter that they were in a hospital room or that Neal's movements were painfully stiff as he raised his left hand to caress the baby's cheek. Neal grinned brilliantly as Elle snapped a picture of the 2 of them.

"Hon… get in there with them. I want one with all of my boys." He sat carefully on the edge of the bed and gently draped his arm around his friend's shoulder. The moment was perfect, he thought.

There was so much wonder in his young friend's face as he played with his namesake. He was clearly thrilled.

"He's amazing, Elizabeth… just like his mother." His smile was so bright Peter could almost ignore the something else that lurked in the back of those blue eyes…almost.

"You ok? Are you hurting? Maybe Elle and I should take him home and let you rest."

"I'm fine. I like him here." He flinched slightly as the baby bounced excitedly on the bed. "He takes my mind off… all of this" the hint of sadness in his voice spoke volumes. Suddenly he knew, Neal knew. Peter thought about letting it pass. This moment was so perfect… his wife, his son and his best friend together but…he couldn't ignore it.

"Your arm?" Neal just nodded "I'm-"

"Please don't say you're sorry"

"Ok I won't… Neal…" he swallowed "I can't imagine how… but I know … I know you. You are not going to let it destroy you."

"I'll be ok."

"You will… but you don't have to be right now. Give yourself time"

Neal smiled sadly "yeah that's what the doctor said… that I might get some use of it back"

"I'm sure you will."

"Best case Peter…" he paused to control the lump in his throat, to contain the tears that tried to get away from him. "I will still lose some … I'll never be able to paint again… not with any skill…'

"You'll be back to painting eventually, one way or the other. I don't doubt that for a minute. You will figure it out"

"Thanks Peter." He sincerely hoped his friend was right but… absently he picked up the pencil on the bedside table…toying with it sadly. The fingers on his left hand were clumsy… they didn't have the skill his right hand used to have, but they did function …maybe in time…


	8. Chapter 8

Three men… three detailed, artistic drawings… Reynold studied them closely, noting the small scar in the first man's eyebrow, the asymmetric twist of the second man's lips, and the cold cruel light in the third man's eyes. Bureau sketch artists did not put this level of detail in their work. These were the work of a real artist…except a real artist had to be capable of … one more thing about the man that didn't make sense.

If only it were as simple as running them through facial recognition… but 15 years… the computer was working on the scanned images but it was likely to take a while. Reynolds leaned back in his chair stretching his back. A tap on his door brought him back to reality. The young woman in his door wore a stern expression. He had seen her around the building a few times the last few weeks.

"Can I help you, agent…?"

"Berrigan, Diana Berrigan… I understand you are in charge of the protection detail for Mr. Nicholas Collins…" Reynolds sighed. Burke insisted they use that name on the official paperwork, he had no idea why… but given the circumstances he didn't think arguing with the man was a good idea.

"Yes I am."

"I want to be involved."

"I see…?"

"I worked with him in New York. I want to make sure this is handled correctly."

"Burke doesn't think I will do my job?"

"He didn't say anything about it to me… I do want to make sure Nea- Nick is safe… after I break his leg of course." Reynolds nodded, an extra set of hands keeping Caffrey in line and in one piece would be helpful… Volunteers for protection detail weren't easy to come by.

"I suppose that can be arranged. Of course we won't need you until he is cleared to travel. I understand that will be next week at the earliest." He glanced at the clock and startled "if you will excuse me agent Berrigan … I have an appointment." He hurried out the door. Time had gotten away from him and he was late. Emily was waiting.

20 minutes later he pulled up in front of his sister's house. He grinned as the tiny girl burst out the door running to his arms. Three years old and small for her age she was the totality of his world. Thomas waved at his sister in the door, letting her know he had the child.

"Thanks Jen."

"Will you be late again tonight?"

"Should be home in time to get her to bed."

"Ok well have fun."

"See you in an hour." Thomas nodded then turned his attention to his daughter. She was jumping up and down by his leg reaching up to be held. Blue paint smeared across her cheek, red yellow and green staining her little fingers.

"Daddy, daddydaddydaddy…! Guess what auntie Jenny let me do! I painted you a picture." She wrapped her smudged hands around his neck as he scooped her up. She kissed his cheek sweetly her blonde hair falling out of her pigtails into her green gold eyes. He snuggled her close.

"I'll bet its beautiful, sweet heart." he pushed her face out of his neck for a moment "where do you want to have lunch?" She tucked her finger in her mouth while she thought about it. He made a point of having lunch with his baby every Wednesday no matter how busy work kept him. Late nights, and early mornings were the norm for the job but 3 year olds need their daddies… and daddies needed them. He couldn't wait to see her painting. He knew it was beautiful.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Peter paced his office. They still had no leads on who the sniper was. Finding the window he used hadn't been hard… there was really only one building in range for the 223, that matched the trajectory… he sighed. This kind of investigation wasn't his area of expertise but he needed it to be right now. He needed to find out who pulled that trigger because, that would lead him to the person who gave the order. That would lead to this being over… to his friend being safe.

One kid about 12 years old said he saw an "old man" leaving the room the night of the shooting… but he didn't have much of a description… Taller than the kid and shorter than Jones… white and old… grey hair. That was it. The kid said the man had a bag but that was all he could give them. Even if he had seen more Peter doubted that his mother would have let him talk to them any longer. She seemed to think they were going to shoot her son. Peter's intense face might have had something to do with that concern...

Fear tickled at the back of his mind… it was frightening how these people knew that Neal talked to Peter and Reynolds. There was no way they could have known so quickly… but whoever this was did know. They hadn't come after him in the 15 years he kept his mouth closed but 4 days after he finally talked, he was in the hospital with a hole through both lungs. Yes they knew…Whoever they were. They knew he talked and they knew exactly where to find him and that was…terrifying. It meant they were not common criminals… they had connections inside the system… incredible connections…

The urge to hit something was almost overwhelming. He resisted, settling instead for pacing like a caged tiger. There had to be a clue… the three trigger men were almost negligible as suspects, chances were from Neal's description they didn't have the brains to realize the threat Neal posed to them. No, more than likely it was whoever Kyle Nolen called 15 years ago…

Kyle Nolen…

He was the key…whoever he called had to be one of his clients…

"Jones!"

"Yeah, Peter?"

"Can you pull a list of Kyle Nolen's clients?"

"How far back?"

"From the day he passed the bar… I want to know who he called. Who he might call again, and who might have the pull for something like this."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

"Are you supposed to be up?" Jason Thomson eyed him nervously

"Have to be on my feet before they'll let me leave." Neal smiled tightly at the young agent. Almost 2 weeks and it was the first time he had seen the kid since before… and Jason seemed almost obsessively concerned with his health. Peter probably tore him apart for being in the shower. Speaking of showers… he eyed the bathroom door ruefully. Now that he was sitting on the edge of the bed the walk across the room seemed dauntingly long. "It's just a shower" he said aloud… "And I'm cleared for it.' He eyed the covered IV port.

"Do you need help?" Jason fidgeted shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"I can do it." Neal's soft answer sounded more as if he were trying to convince himself than the kid. He had waved the nurse off the same way a few minutes ago but he was still sitting on the edge of the bed working up the courage to actually do it, but he wanted to get out of here as soon as possible so… he stood up cautiously and walked slowly across the floor, grabbing the bathroom door to steady himself…the sudden movement sent a sharp pang through his side. He flinched then opened the door.

The hot water felt wonderful, he sat under it, almost dozing until Jason called nervously through the door. "You ok?'

"Yeah" he startled. Then forced himself to stand up and dry off. Clean pajamas made him feel almost human. Almost… he studied his reflection… his eyes were shockingly blue against too pale skin. He was thin…skinny really, he probably should try to eat more. He inspected the visible wound at the base of his ribs…definitely ugly he decided. His right arm hung limp at his side… the pins and needles were fading and he had more real feeling in the limb since they repaired his shoulder blade, but it still refused to obey his commands and pleas to move. He sighed and slid the sling back on…it looked better that way at least.

Another tap on the door "I'm ok Jason. Don't worry so much" he forced a smile and pulled his eyes away from his arm. "Don't dwell on it." he told himself. "Don't think about it …" he opened the door and slowly made his way back to the bed. Leaning back into the pillow he grinned at the young agent.

"Can I ask a favor Jason?"

"I guess…"

"Just sit right there and don't move." The man gave him a questioning look but remained still, while Neal awkwardly propped the sketch pad against his knees and picked up the pencil with his left hand. When he was finished he stared at the drawing… it was terrible… but Jason was almost recognizable. He sighed. Who was he kidding …it was barely better than a stick figure. Time, he reminded himself as he closed his eyes already drifting… It takes time to learn something new.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Peter glanced at Neal, dozing in the passenger seat of the car…Driving to Washington the day after he was released from the hospital was pushing things, but Reynolds picked up a suspect… a man matching one of Neal's drawings. They could only hold him so long without a positive ID. He offered to send a photo lineup but it would carry more weight if Neal could finger him in person. Reynolds sounded shocked when Neal agreed to make the trip. Peter had tried his best to talk him out of it but here they were 100 miles into the 226 mile trip.

Frankly he was concerned how his friend was holding up. He was still disturbingly pale, he trembled with exhaustion just getting into the car and the stubborn set of his jaw spoke loudly of the pain he was still in. All of that worried Peter but not as much as the faint blue tint of Neal's lips… the doctor told them it would take a long time for his lungs to fully heal, and that his heart had been under a lot of stress to keep up with getting the necessary oxygen to his body with a reduced supply. Now only 3 weeks after the injury he was traveling. He was supposed to take it easy until his lungs had healed. He should be resting. He glanced at his friend's sleeping form and sighed… well technically…

"Everything ok, Peter?" Jones asked. "You want me to drive for a while?" Until they handed Neal over to Reynolds he remained under their protection…which meant 3 agents traveled with him. Thomson sat silently in the back seat. He requested the assignment. Peter knew the kid felt guilty… "He should feel guilty…" if Neal hadn't called Peter he would have died alone before the kid got out of the shower.

"No I'm ok…" not entirely true… he caught the knowing look from his lead investigator.

"I don't like just handing him over to DC either boss," Jones said "but it is their case."

"I know. Reynolds is a good agent… I read his file," Peter frowned "he doesn't like him at all though. I wish he had gotten past the arrest profile… he's be shocked how much they have in common."

"I give it a week and Nea-Nick will have him charmed."

"He's just so…" he glanced at Neal again…he hadn't stirred. "Defenseless right now and Reynolds, while he will do what he feels is his responsibility… he's not likely to go out of his way …"

"How would you feel if I stayed on in DC for a few days? I understand Diana has already joined the protection detail… if I were there to help her…"

"I would appreciate that' he met Jones' eyes in the mirror "but it's too much to ask."

"I don't want to lose him again either."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Waiting had never been his strength… He could do it, and look patient but the urge to pace or tap his fingers or…well anything besides just sit still was always there. It was worse today… he was nervous Neal conceded. He hadn't laid eyes on this man since he was 18 and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to face him. The sooner they got this over the better. His feet itched to pace but that would take entirely too much effort, in fact, just breathing almost felt like to much effort at the moment. 4 and a half hours in the car had sapped his strength until he had no choice but to allow himself to be helped from the car to the office. Embarrassing really. At least he was left alone now, spared the worried looks Peter and Jones had shot over his head on the way in.

A small face peeked out of an office. Neal grinned at her, offered a wave when she smiled back shyly. The rest of a little girl with blonde pigtails and a pink jumper slipped into view clutching a doll. Not more than 2 or 3 years old. He wondered what she was doing alone in an FBI building.

"It's ok." He almost whispered not wanting to frighten the child "I won't hurt you." She inched closer one small finger finding her mouth. "Is your Mommy here?" Solemn eyes of the most peculiar green gold color regarded his and the little head shook. "Your daddy?" a nod "where is he?" that won him a shrug. "I like your baby… bet you are a good mommy."

"Not her mommy" the little one found her voice. "M'her auntie"

"Oh … where's her mommy?"

"She went away… bad men make her go away."

"Oh" Neal regarded the little one for a moment "so you take care of her...? What's her name?"

"Molly…" she grinned "Daddy says my mommy's name is Molly too. What's your name?"

"Nick… what about you, auntie? Do you have a name?"

"Emmly"

"Is someone supposed to be watching you Emily?" he glanced around no one seemed to be missing a small girl. A Bureau office seemed like a dangerous place for her to be wandering around alone, she must have snuck away from someone. Her grin widened conspiratorially as she nodded.

"Robewt's posed to… he works for my daddy… but sometimes he's got to many papers and he forgets… it's easy to splore then." Her face fell a little, her soft heart jabbing just a bit. "Daddy gets mad at him when that happens."

"Oh you're a little escape artist, are you?" she giggled

"You hurt our arm, huh?" she pointed at the sling.

"I did."

"Does it still hurt?"

"A little bit."

"You want to hold Molly? She makes me feel better when I get owies."

"Why thank you Emily." He said with exaggerated gratitude... Emily giggled again. "Hello Molly… Yes I like your aunt Emily too… she takes really good care of you doesn't she?"

"I let her paint every day."

"You like to paint?"

"Uh huh… and draw too."

"Me too" his eyes darkened a bit but his smile didn't slip.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Reynold stepped out of the meeting. Briefing the protection detail on the handling of the man waiting outside, took longer than he expected because the people from New York kept interrupting… it wasn't just Burke, he found out, they were all fiercely protective of Caffrey… and defensive about what he was.

He looked around the office to find the man…Suddenly his blood ran cold. Caffrey sat at a desk as if he belonged there smiling brilliantly… at Emily. Reynolds' whole being recoiled …his baby girl, his world was sitting on THAT MAN's right knee as they both giggled over the paper on the desk. Fury replaced fear in a heartbeat.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!" he dropped his voice when Emily looked up, fright in her eyes. "I'm sorry sweet heart… come to daddy." She happily hopped off of Caffrey's knee and ran to him. He hugged her his glare never leaving the man at the desk. He didn't rise, just sat there with one hand raised as if waving Reynolds away.

"How dare you?" Reynolds hissed "My daughter? If you think…"Reynolds sat his baby gently on the floor.

"We were just drawing… she got away from her babysitter…I thought…" he crossed the space in 3 strides grabbing Caffrey by the shirt and hauling him up to his feet.

"Let me be very clear…If you touch her again, or speak to her or even look at her… I promise…" he was satisfied to see a hint of fear in the man's eyes "I swear you will regret it." Reynolds released his hold and waited for a response. Caffrey didn't say a word, just sank quietly back into the chair, eyes on the floor. The silence stretched on for a moment that felt like an eternity. Reynolds began to regret letting his response get physical. That was crossing a line and the man**_was _**injured. He sighed but the anger remained. "He crossed the line first" his mind stubbornly whispered "bringing my daughter into this"


	9. Chapter 9

The dark room was quiet. Tension hung in the air so thick Neal felt like he was breathing syrup. He stared at his hand curled on his thigh. Trembling… he silently cursed his weakness both physical and emotional, and clenched his fist hoping Peter didn't see. He sat between his friend and agent Reynolds waiting while the lineup was arranged behind the window. He didn't look up, not at the 2 way mirror, not at either man beside him. His chest throbbed softly, every heartbeat reminding him of his helplessness.

The memory of Reynolds' furious face as he pulled him to his feet floated through his mind… terrifyingly close to his own, his eyes burning with barely contained murderous intent. Neal swallowed. He could live with the words Reynolds hissed at him. He could just keep his head down, stay far away from Emily and hope the man would still do his job. What hurt more than the strain of pulled wounds as he was yanked to his feet, were the words he overheard the man say to Emily…"Stay away from him sweetheart… he's a bad man." And the fear in the little girl's eyes when she looked back at him. Why did that hurt… it was after all true by all legal standards. He couldn't stand the thought of that beautiful little girl seeing him that way though.

A hand on his arm snapped his mind back to the task at hand "They ready?" inwardly flinching at the slight waver in his voice he looked up at Peter.

"Almost. You ok?"

"Yeah." He plastered a smile in place "I'm fine."

"Right" he didn't sound at all convinced as he moved to help Neal up. He waved his friend away and struggled to his feet on his own. His vision blurred a little. **_Keep stress to a minimum _**Dr. Andrews's words echoed in his mind. It almost made Neal smile. Yeah… that was going to happen.

With cautious steps he moved to the window and gazed through at the 6 men waiting there. In a moment Neal's blood turned to ice. Yes, he knew the second man from the left… he knew that face, that cold sneer, those huge fists… oh yes he knew those fists and those booted feet. The hiking boots had changed, he noted, but the man was the same... Brown eyes as hard and cold as stone, thin lips that smiled gleefully with each cry of pain he couldn't suppress… Donny's terrified eyes. Rico's whimper… Leo's quiet acceptance, his look saying this had happened before… too many times… Neal had to protect them, had to draw the man's attention back to himself, had to say something…but he couldn't move… couldn't breathe…

"Neal?" the hand on his shoulder was firm but not harsh…drawing him out of the memory. Peter's look was to gentle… worried. The younger man straightened and smiled brightly. His friend looked almost amused at that. "If you want to convince me you're ok…" he whispered "breathing would help." Neal released the breath he suddenly realized he was holding with a soft gasp.

"Second from the left" he said quietly

"You're sure?" Reynolds asked "he's one of the men who shot those boys?" Neal controlled the shudder Reynold voice sent through him

"He didn't pull the trigger…" Neal shook his head "he enjoyed the rest though."

"The rest…?"Confusion filled the agent's voice

"Hurting them" Peter understood. Neal nodded gratefully. He didn't have to say it, which was good because he had to clench his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering as he started to shiver. "You have your ID, Reynolds… I'm going to take him to the safe house now."

"I'm ok." He whispered. Peter took his wrist and gently raised his hand in front of his face, allowing him to see the pale blue nail beds…

"Your lips are worse." His friend told him "you need to rest... this has been more than enough stress for today." Neal would have argued if he hadn't been so focused on not trembling. Instead he forced a grin and allowed himself to be led away.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Diana prowled the hotel room. Opting out of the briefing, after all she didn't need anyone to tell her how to handle Caffrey, she had come to the safe house early to make sure everything was in order. Honestly she wanted a little time to think. She wasn't sure why she volunteered for this. A part of her hated the man…she had been witness to the pain he left behind him when he fled. On the other hand… knowing he was alive…She had surprised by the weight that slid away when she heard. She was definitely going to punch Caffrey the moment she saw him, she decided… after all the h*** he put them all through last year…if he hadn't recently been hurt she just might have actually shot him herself… the sound of the keycard in the door made her look up.

All thoughts of violence vanished with one glance at Neal… If she hadn't had reassurance from Jones just this morning that he was alive she would have sworn she was looking at a ghost. His face was a terrifying shade of grey, his lips pulled thin… and blue. Her sharp eyes took in the sling that supported his limp right arm, the slight tremors running through his body, the way his clothes hung on his skinny frame… His clothes… a t-shirt and jeans…not a button in sight. There seemed to be so little left of the charming man she remembered but he grinned at her brilliantly, bright eyes sparkling with delight.

She hugged him… she wasn't sure why or who was more surprised. For a long moment his body seemed frozen, standing rigid and unmoving in her embrace. Then his left arm moved to her shoulder to awkwardly return her affection. Forcing herself to pull away and look stern she pointed him to the bed. He cocked an eyebrow questioningly

"Well if you wanted to get me in bed…" her glare could have killed an elephant but Neal just grinned… before wearily dropping onto the bed without bothering with the blanket … or his shoes.

Diana's eyes met Peter's "is he ok?" she mouthed

"He needs time… and" Peter sighed "lots of rest with no stress. Which I don't foresee happening."

"The murder…."

"Dredging all of that up… it can't be easy. Add the pressure of someone trying to … just try to keep him quiet… and make sure he rests. Take good care of him."

"Yes boss. Relax… he's in good hands."

"The best." He smiled "thanks Diana"

"For you, boss... anything."

"Make sure he takes these… he won't argue much about the bronchial dilators but he fights the pain meds." He handed her the bottles of pills… and an inhaler. "And this if he's having trouble…"

"Got it."

"I'll check in later. I need to have a **talk** with **Agent** Reynolds"

"What's wrong?"

"There was an incident at the office…"that look in his eye didn't bode well for the other agent, Diana thought.

She watched Peter leave then turned her dark eyes back to the man on the bed. Her sigh was quiet as she walked across the room ignoring the peculiar looks she got from the 2 DC agents. She carefully removed Neal's shoes. Then shook him gently, waking him enough to encourage him to slide under the blanket. He gave her a groggy smile.

"Take this." She ordered softly offering the codeine…it was the mildest of the 3 painkillers in her hand but it would take the edge off, with minimum argument, hopefully. Neal's look was withering as he shook his head.

"I'm fine" he mumbled still half asleep

"Take it." She commanded. It spoke to his level of exhaustion…or pain, that he didn't argue any farther, just swallowed the pill with a glare. She tucked the blanket around him carefully.

Straightening she shot a look brimming with daggers at the 2 smirking agents by the door, daring them to make any comments. She smiled inwardly when they flinched back a step.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Burke was angry… beyond angry actually, that was extremely clear. Obviously he had heard about the incident earlier. Pacing like a caged lion, he stammered over the torrent of furious words that tried to burst out… Reynold though he might head him off…if he explained.

"Emily was sitting **_in his lap_**! I know I crossed a line but how would you react if you saw your child sitting in a sociopath's lap?"

"My son was playing on his hospital bed just the other day! He would never hurt a child! NEVER!"

"You may trust him with your kid but Emily is my whole world. If anything happened to her…"

"He wouldn't hurt her. He would not hurt her." The tone was icy. "Clearly I can't leave him with you…"

"I'll do my job."

"I can't even trust you not to hurt him yourself."

"I didn't hurt him. I just made him stand up and look me in the eye."

"You pulled him up… do you have any idea what that could have done?! The damage he has inside." Reynolds deflated

"I know. I wasn't thinking.", he shouldn't have gotten physical especially with an injured witness. "And I'm sorry…I also know he still gave us a positive ID afterward… which is surprisingly respectable."

"I told you, he wants justice for his friends."

"Or payback for what they did to him." A harsh glare answered that.

"Even if that's it … can you blame him?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, what 18 year old kid could you expect to be beaten half to death, watch his friends murdered, barely escaping with his own life and not want a little payback? At least he's going the legal route… a lot of people wouldn't…" Something flickered in those brown eyes.

"You're right… I just can't figure the man out…" maybe Burke was right… maybe there was more to Caffrey than the profile suggested…A bit of the anger drained out of Peter Burke at that

"You and the rest of the world." Peter's look was sympathetic … "I know you think you know what he is but please just… treat him like he's a person. Can you promise me that?" he could… maybe he should give the man a chance to show him what he was really made of…

"I can. As long as he stays away from Emily." He met the angry gaze with a steely one of his own. "I mean that… if he so much as looks at my daughter again…"

"He won't." Peter set his jaw "and I'm not leaving until …I trust you"

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Reynolds studied the man quietly… Caffrey sat, back against the wall, knees drawn up…a sketch pad propped on his thighs...with a pencil clasped awkwardly in his left hand. The intensity of his eyes on the paper seemed likely to start a fire. Burke sat silently in the corner… pretending to read…ready to swoop in to save the younger man if necessary… Reynolds resigned himself. He needed to do it… it wasn't hard … just apologize already. It was the right thing to do…

"Did you catch him?" Caffrey didn't look up… his hand didn't stop moving over the paper.

"What?" Reynolds stammered confused.

"The man who killed Molly" Blue eyes met his "Did you catch him?" A disbelieving noise escaped Burke, Caffrey glanced his direction then turned his burning gaze back to the stunned man before him.

"How did you know about…?" Caffrey shrugged noncommittally "you shouldn't know about…"

"I'm sorry…" he turned back to the paper "I didn't mean to pry" silence followed for a long moment… "he was a sociopath wasn't he?" the sound Burke make now was pure exasperation as he tossed the book down, bringing his hands up silently declaring "I give up"

"That is none of your business!" Reynolds snapped… the silence lasted longer this time… "Yes he was… DCPD arrested him." Why was he telling this man anything?

"That's good."

"Yeah" he was off balance…unsure where this conversation was going.

"It's better that way…" Caffrey didn't look at him now just continued drawing…

"Why's that?"

"You're a good man… like Peter" he shrugged one shoulder. "Finding him yourself… Would have broken that. Emily needs her dad to be a good man… a man she can be proud of" he lay the drawing aside and stood up…he stopped at the bathroom door. "She's a great kid… I understand why you are protective. I would be too." he said, he flashed a dazzling grin. A moment later the shower came on and Reynold turned to stare at Burke. The other man was eyeing the drawing left on the bed with a peculiar look… it didn't have nearly the detail of the sketches of the suspects, Reynolds noted, but it was clearly a beautiful young woman with long dark hair.

"What was that?"

"That was him telling you you're forgiven" Burke managed to sound amused and irritated at the same time… and just a little bit… sad. "And that he understands" his eyes lingered a moment longer on the drawing.

"How did he know about Molly?" Burke just shrugged

"He's Neal."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Something in his chest broke with an audible CRACK! The pain spun his mind out of control! His vision darkened. He tried to breathe… but air simply wouldn't fill his lungs…through the black fog he saw his friends begging as the brutal mountain of muscle turned back to them!

"NO!" his mind screamed." stay away from them!" but his lips made no sound. He had to stop him, had to bring that monster's attention back to himself. If he could just buy them some time… he kicked out, his toe just brushing the man's ankle. It was surprising how quickly that bulk could spin around.

"KICK ME YOU LITTLE SON OF A B****!" the heavy hiking boot flew at his face! Once…twice… he didn't feel the third time. He couldn't see, couldn't move but he could hear their pain as the brute went after them… this had to stop… their faces danced through his mind. Leo, quiet shy Leo didn't make a sound when he was hit… he'd been hit to many times already… he was far too used to it… Neal couldn't let it happen to him again. Donny screamed in pain as a booted foot connect with bruised ribs…Rico was tough…stoic but his lips couldn't contain the groan, as a massive fist connected with his diaphragm. Neal had to move… say something to make this stop.

"Leave them alone…" he wasn't sure he said it out loud "I opened the safe…they never saw what was inside. Please…"he looked at his friends…He choked on the sour feeling in his throat…they were dead… all of them…Leo slumped face down in the dirt, Rico lay in a heap of jumbled limbs on his side, eyes closed, blood draining from his mouth… and Donny… Donny stared back at him, brown eyes still pleading with him to save him… vacant sightless eyes…

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry, please forgive me" he begged those eyes.

The faces shifted, flickered… Kate, Ellen…Hale…dead because of him… he saw more … Elizabeth… Mozzie… Diana… Peter… all the people he ever loved … lifeless eyes staring at him accusingly… all around him…everywhere he turned, an army of dead faces. There was no escape! Sinking to his knees… he screamed… No escape!

"You destroy everything good around you."

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…" he sobbed.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Diana watched him twisting on the bed, moaning, whimpering. Was it pain or fear that caused the turmoil? She toyed with the bottle of pills on the table beside her. Pain she could ease…

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry!" he cried out before he jerked awake

She kept her eyes on the magazine in her hand while Neal's wild eyes darted around the room, allowing him his privacy until his breathing settled and he dropped back against the pillow. Limp, wrung out he didn't make another sound. She could tell he was still awake though…

"Bad dream?" Diana asked but is wasn't really a question. Even though she kept her eyes on her page, she knew he nodded

She look up then… meeting his eyes.

"You hurting?" he shook his head silently, fingers clutching the blanket.

"I'm fine" his voice caught, betraying him

"Right…"she rolled her eyes. "Neal you need to take care of yourself…let your body-"

"I've heard this lecture before."

"I'll bet you have. "She glared at him trying to keep her lips from twitching up "it doesn't make it any less true."

"I know."

"Good… then take your pills…"

"They make me sleepy"

"Great…" she grinned "because its 2 am"

He smiled… she had him there. He glowered ineffectually at her and took the pills she offered. He was quiet so long she thought he had dozed back off…

"Diana?"

"Yeah?"

"Do me a favor?" he opened his eyes… peered straight into hers… with burning intensity

"What's that?" Suspicious, she made no promises.

"Ask to be reassigned."

"Excuse me?" She laughed derisively

"Ask to be reassigned. This is too dangerous." He swallowed "I couldn't… if something happened to you…any of you…"

She smiled grimly. "Not happening Caffrey… I can take care of myself."

"Please" his eyes pleaded

"You know for a smart guy, you really are an idiot. Now good back to sleep…"

He smiled tightly closing his eyes "it was worth a shot…"

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

He glanced at the door to the hall, then at the bathroom door… the agent on guard had stepped in there a moment ago. The young man would be busy at least 5 minutes… 4 days cooped up with them and Neal knew their habits as well as he did his own. Every night… at 3am one of the guards checked the exterior, tonight it was Jones…the second left on a coffee run at the same time…

He carefully slipped out of bed and got dressed… getting dressed was different with only one functioning hand. Sliding his feet in his shoes…loafers, no laces… awkwardly he pulled the T-shirt over his head… no buttons. With the sling in place to hold his useless arm out of his way, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Definitely not his best look but it would do for this. Running his fingers through his unruly hair, he grabbed his phone… glancing at the screen, at the message there, He debated leaving the device briefly before he dropped it into his pocket.

He stood for a moment gazing out the window… a fire escape with only one arm was a nerve wracking prospect but he couldn't risk running into Jones and it **_was _**only 3 stories. Neal gulped and swung his leg over the window sill… he didn't really want to leave, but he couldn't stay… he wanted to be done running and hiding. Turning back he carefully closed the window behind him. Rung by rung… he was terrified but it was the only thing he could do… he didn't have any other choice. He could not let her be hurt… no one else would be hurt because of him… he sighed… at least there was that.

He was on the street before he heard the young agent call out an alarm… Neal broke into a jog, wishing momentarily that he had taken the offered pain pill earlier…

One block and his breath came in aching gasps…Two and his vision blurred at the edges and the world shifted slightly side to side, his heart shuddered in protest… Three and his legs were giving out. He could hardly see at all through the swirling colors. He stopped, sliding down the wall beside him. He huddled gasping, his head between his knees.

Slowly the world stopped spinning and he gingerly pushed himself to his feet. Still panting he waved down the first cab he saw… it took longer than it would have in New York, he thought. He glanced at his phone once more as he gave the driver an address. Then he let his head drop back against the seat and allowed his eyes to drift closed. He wouldn't let her… or anyone else get hurt.


	10. Chapter 10

**Authors note: Please bare with me I promise I have not lost my mind...**

"Hon, you coming to bed?" Elle smiled at the top of her husband's head when he answered with a grunt. He had been staring at that file since their son went to bed. She sat down beside him and touched his arm to get his attention "must be quite a case…" It was more than that, she knew, to cause a relapse into his workaholic habits.

"Kyle Nolen's client list…" his smile was apologetic

"So Neal...?"

"Yeah…" he sighed running his fingers through his hair. "They tried to kill him, Elle…after 15 years. That's a long time to hold a grudge… for something he **might** have seen. Whoever Nolen called that night is dangerous…and connected."

"And you think they're on that list?" he nodded

"I'm sure they are…" he stretched his shoulders. "The problem is…" he gestured to the papers strewn across the table "it's a long list… Nolen will defend anyone as long as he gets paid… so far I've found 3 mob bosses, 2 suspected gun runners and 4 alleged drug smugglers who fit the bill…" he shrugged "and I'm not even halfway through the list"

"I'll make some coffee." She ran her hand lightly over his shoulders as she stood

"Thanks hon."

An hour later the lines on the page were starting to blur despite 3 cups of coffee. He snapped back to attention when Elizabeth gave a small gasp… "Peter you're going to want to see this…" she held out the paper in her hand

"You found something?"

"I doubt it's the person Nolen called but…" she pointed to a name on the list. Peter stared at the name, understanding dawning. Nothing was ever about the money for Neal… he knew that by now. He knew that in France when his friend shrugged and deflected that a hundred thousand dollars sounded like a lot of money to a teenager. No… it was never about the money. That name... suddenly it was crystal clear why Neal talked his friends into the burglary of the lawyer's house. Peter swore softly. It always came back to the same thing with that kid… and he never learned.

"D***it Neal…" he muttered.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

His phone rang…and rang... and rang… Reynolds tried to will it to stop… he stared at the clock trying to make its blurry face come into focus… 3:24… he moaned and fumbled to answer it.

"Reynolds…"

"Sir?" the voice on the other end sounded agitated… and young. "He's gone…. Mr. Collins, he snuck out a few minutes ago and we can't find him." Thomas sighed

"He couldn't have gotten far..." he said remembering how shaky Caffrey looked the last time he saw him.

"we think he caught a cab a couple of blocks from here… agent Jones thought he saw him get in but he couldn't stop them" Reynold swore under his breath he needed that testimony, it was their best lead… "Coward" he thought furiously…

"I'll be right there." Hanging up he called Jenny. 'hey Sis… sorry to wake you."

"Tom… what's up?"

"I need you to come over and watch Emily"

"At 3:30 in the morning?"

"Something came up on a case… I have to go…" the sigh that echoed through the phone was epic "I'm sorry."

"Give me 20 minutes."

"Thanks Jenny… I appreciate it."

With a growl he stepped into the shower. He was going to need a gallon of coffee… and someone who knew how to track the idiot. Stepping out he dressed quickly, and started the coffee pot… no use putting it off any longer. He had to call Peter Burke… D*** he just got the man to go home 2 days ago. Reynolds was not looking forward to telling him he lost his charge.

His phone buzzed, a text, he looked down .someone was probably wanting to know what was taking him so long. It buzzed again. He glanced at it …Nick Collins… Thomas Reynolds froze… the message was so shocking it didn't register for a long moment

**I do not want to run , but I am scared so I am go ing. I took Emily. I will keep her safe , as long as no one looks for us. I know this has demolished Peter's faith in me… I'm sorry.**

A picture of Emily with tousled hair, in her pajamas, fear in her eyes followed

He was running… up the stairs… down the hall… he threw open the door and the world spun out of control... as he stared at the empty bed… Emily's empty bed!

"He took my daughter…" the thought wouldn't process… "He took my daughter… He took my daughter!" Reynolds couldn't stifle the scream.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

The steady thrum of the helicopter blade roared through his mind as Peter tried to make sense of the calls he had received. First had been Jones, telling him Neal ran…, he could believe it… Neal ran when he was scared and he had plenty of reason to be scared. Even though the thought of the kid out there on his own in his current condition made his stomach roll, Peter could see him doing it.

The next call was inconceivable though… one of Reynolds men had snarled to him in a voice like iron. "Caffrey took Tom's daughter… if you want him back in one piece, you better hope you find him before we do." Neal didn't take the little girl. Peter was one hundred percent certain of that… but someone did and he understood the terror the other agent must be going though.

The pitch of the engine changed as the craft began to land. Peter stared at the approaching city. It was not a coincidence that Neal and Emily went missing at the same time… that thought made him sick. They had to find both of them … Fast!

Stepping out of the chopper he ran to Diana. Her face was tight… he had never seen her so angry.

"Any news?" She shook her head. He watched the muscle in her jaw clench and release… and clench again.

"Reynolds got a text from Neal" she said sadly "he said Emily is with him."

"He didn't take her…!" she couldn't believe he would do this, could she?" Neal would never kidnap a child"

"I know…" she hesitated "but it sure looks like he did and Reynolds isn't open to any other possibilities. This is going to get bad." A figure rushed toward them.

"TREAT HIM LIKE A PERSON, YOU SAID!? THAT HE WASN"T…. THAT HE WOULDN'T HURT HER!" Reynolds tousled hair and desperate eyes caught Peter's gaze before the man threw himself at him shoving him back "I TRUSTED YOU, AND HE TOOK MY DAUGHTER!"

"Reynolds…listen to me! Neal doesn't do kid-!"

"DON'T! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT!" the man's voice broke…"she's all I have… if there is one scratch on her… I will kill him with my bare hands… I don't care what excuse he has, I will kill him, if she's hurt. Do you understand me?" he choked on a sob…

"We'll get her home safely." he promised "But I know Neal didn't… he wouldn't… something's wrong…If he gets hurt-. We need to find both of them! He didn't take Emily…" Reynolds shoved his phone in Peter's face.

"He already confessed." Peter stared at the text, something was off with the spacing…was there a message there

"Neal doesn't do confessions" he said absently his mind on the extra spaces and periods. "I need a copy of this message"

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

"We got a lead on Collins!" the young agent almost yelled as he dashed into the room. Reynolds grabbed the paper out of the kid's hands before he even skidded to a stop.

"Not running huh?" he waved it at Peter "he just used his credit card in Brookmont. He headed northwest on George Washington Memorial Parkway"

"He's not there…" Peter looked up from his copy of the text. "There is a message here."

"The message is he's a sociopathic coward WHO TOOK MY DAUGHTER!"

Peter cringed…he understood the man's panic, but it was interfering with any semblance of an objective investigation. There was only one explanation that made sense… and it meant Neal… and the little girl were in big trouble…he pushed aside his own panic... if he could just see Neal's message… "Can you manage an objective investigation?" he shoved the thought away. Two spaces separated not and run from the rest of the sentence… a space broke going in half… suddenly he saw it… it couldn't be that simple… Neal didn't usually use such simple codes but… the rest of it fell in place… and his stomach dropped.


	11. Chapter 11

**authors note: ** **so my code didn't show up properly in the last chapter but I explain it a bit in here **

"Hey buddy… you getting out or what?" the driver's voice snapped him awake. He nodded and handed the man all the money in his pocket…

Darkness still hung heavily over the city… The street was quiet, as he stepped out of the cab… quiet like most residential streets at 3:15, but it felt eerie. He watched the car drive away, despair settling over his mind as he stood alone in the pool of dim yellow light cast by the streetlight above him. He looked at his phone again… at the text that came through an hour ago…at the picture of the little girl… Her hair was a mess, her green gold eyes wide, tears on her flushed cheeks she wore pink and blue princess footed pajamas… the message that followed was simple… **2436 S Jefferson… before dawn…contact no one**. The threat implied by the wiry hand over the child's mouth froze his blood in his veins…

Neal raised his left hand and twitched his right arm up from the shoulder as far as he could, turning around slowly in a full circle.

"Ok…I'm here" he spoke softly to the empty darkness.

"Smart kid…" the unfamiliar voice was harsh "and you didn't use your phone either… that's good. Means I don't have to kill this little sweetheart… yet. He said you had a real soft spot for kids. That's too bad for you."

"how do you know I didn't use my phone? Fifty FBI agents could be watching right now" Neal turned to face the voice. He barely registered the scrawny man with eyes as cold, hard and grey as steel and thin greying hair, his eyes going instead to the terrified face of the little girl he held. Steel Eyes laughed

"we know…" his voice held a superior note "we've been watching you… there were no outgoing calls or messages from your phone… you spoke to no one before you left the hotel… and the cabby… well…if you did talk to him… he won't be telling anyone." The nasty look in those eyes did not bode well for the driver. Neal cringed, remembering the picture of a woman and a young boy on the man's dash… more innocent lives destroyed because of him… he tried not to think about it but the regret sat in his gut like a stone… No! It couldn't happen… He couldn't let that happen.

"I didn't say anything to him… I fell asleep…ok? You don't have to hurt him…"

"I'm afraid we can't take your word for it… but if you are telling the truth the man has nothing to worry about… he may even consider it a good night…if you are lying…" Neal nodded, grateful his run had left him too drained to think about sending a message for help.

Emily Reynolds was sobbing, wailing as only a small child could, the sound muffled by the hand clamped over her mouth, tight enough it looked like it might bruise. She kicked and struggled against the strong arm around her waist. Neal flinched but kept his voice low and calm

"Ok I'm here… do what you want with me… just let her go."

"Not yet… I think you will be more… cooperative if she comes along."

"She's just a baby… she has nothing to do with this." His blue eyes were nearly as wide and frightened as the child's though he struggled to keep the panicked edge out of his voice "just let her go home…she's can't ID you." Steele Eyes shook his head…

"Let's consider her insurance… to ensure you stay in line… I won't hurt her… as long as you keep me happy…" Neal gulped, his breath came in frantic gasps. His heart hammering wildly against his ribs… he couldn't get words past the growing lump of dread in his stomach. He nodded in defeat. He was going to die. He hoped desperately that he wouldn't take agent Reynolds little girl with him. He knew with absolute certainty that would destroy a good man… "Good boy." The man tilted his head toward a car "get in" not one for a lot of words then…

The man shoved Emily in beside him and slammed the door. Her screams echoed in the enclosed space "Wet me gooooo! I want my DAAAADDY!" she wailed… Neal reached to comfort the child but she pulled away as frightened of him as the kidnapper "NOOOO! You BAD MAN… NOOOO!" he flinched and withdrew his hand. He glanced at the hard man in the front… he had to calm her in some way before she was hurt. Desperate he racked his weary mind… unable to think of anything else he tried singing to her softly

"Hush little baby don't say a word… daddy's gonna buy you a mocking bird…" Tears shining in her peculiar eyes, she quieted a little "if that mocking bird won't sing… daddy's gonna buy you a diamond ring…"

"I want my daddy" she whimpered but it was almost a whisper… broken by tiny sobs... as she pressed her back against the other side of the car.

"Your daddy will find you… he'll come Emily…"Neal hoped he wasn't lying to the toddler "it will be ok... no one is going to hurt you." Her sobs got a little louder "Bet he will buy you a present when you get home too" then giving up on talking he went back to singing…it seemed to work to keep her quiet.

"If that diamond ring turns brass… daddy's going to buy you a looking glass…"

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

He eyed the sign as the man pulled him from the car… Not the huge colorful sigh that dominated the fence declaring COMING SOON. The smaller almost obscure sign that murmured "demolition scheduled for April 6 … 9:00am... a warning for the general public… advising the curious and the homeless alike to be elsewhere at that time. Neal's heart dropped. It was April 6th and while there still wasn't the tiniest hint of lessened darkness along the eastern horizon he had a feeling he would still be here at 9 am…dead or alive…unless he did something, this beautiful old hotel was going to bury him.

He looked down at the sleeping child in the back seat… He may be going to die in this building, but she was going home to her daddy… safely… there simply was no other option. Emily was 3 years old, she should have never been a part of this mess. **_Your fault_** the nagging voice in his head reminded him…**_another innocent caught in your wake._** He despised that voice but it was right. "Don't worry Emily…I'll fix this." He whispered.

The driver opened the door and yanked Neal to his feet. Steel Eyes was stronger than he looked. He shoved Neal's phone back into his hand…

"You are going to send a text… telling her **daddy **that you took his little girl. That he'll get her back when he stops looking for you." Neal swallowed the sick feeling in his throat.

"Me?"

"Yes, you, and you will let me read it before you send it so no funny business." He nodded and looked at the phone… carefully wording his text… without a word Neal handed Steel Eyes back the device, hoping the man wouldn't notice the awkward wording and extra spaces.

"This is a mess…" the look was suspicious

"You try texting with just your left hand" Neal countered. That made the guy smirk darkly but with a shrug he hit send, turned off the power and tossed the phone in the bushes. Neal released the breath he suddenly realized he was holding. Now he just hoped Peter saw the message and understood all it really said was "not running, Emily safe. Demolished" and nine dots to tell him when.

"Pick her up" Neal eyed him doubtfully but he didn't argue with the .38 that appeared in the older man's hand. Picking up a sleeping child with one hand was almost impossible… carrying her was an entirely different challenge… he arranged her as carefully as he could… hoping she would stay asleep…

He focused on the building… late Victorian era construction …1890's most likely judging by the rounded windows and the sharp turrets that rose from the corners and on either side of the entrance. Steel Eyes prodded him inside through a small side door.

Someone had attempted renovations… probably in the 1960's or 70's guessing by the oranges, green's and browns on the peeling walls, in the torn carpets, dark wood paneling hung askew on loose nails… some pieces had come free entirely, lying on the floor… the work was unfinished and it looked like the building had sat empty since then. Glass from broken windows and shattered bottles flung across the carpeted and wooden floor… spoke of long abandonment. The place was massive, five stories of long dark corridors, dozens of empty rooms…he noticed a door leading to a basement.

His heart sank… he knew why he wasn't gagged… no one would hear him no matter how loud he yelled.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Peter stood toe to toe with Reynolds. Glare to glare. He wasn't backing down… there wasn't time.

"You have to listen to me! Neal did not kidnap your daughter!"

"You keep saying that!" Reynolds hands balled into fists "but you have yet to offer one shred of evidence to support that."

"Because I know him!"

"You claim you know him, but he let you think he was dead! For a year..! If he hurt you like that… and he claims you are his friend! I want my daughter Burke… I will get her! And I will go through anyone who gets in my way… including you." His voice sank to almost a whisper, the fire in his eyes desperate and wild.

"Reynolds, if you want Emily home you have to listen to me, please."

"I don't have to listen to you…! I should have you removed…" time for new tactic

"Answer this… How did he do it?"

"What do you mean?"

"How did he break into your house…grab Emily… and get her out of the house without you hearing anything?"

"He's an expert in burglary."

"True but a sleeping 3 year old is what? 30...40 pounds of dead weight… if she were awake she would be fighting and trying to yell…either way…how did him-?"

"You don't think a grown man could…?" Reynolds trailed off as realization hit

"Not with just his left arm."

"He had help." Peter shot him an exasperated look, but he would take what he could get.

"Ok either he had help or someone else did it… who would help him…here?"

"He has connections I'm sure…"

"He does but he's been in a safe house since he got here… this wasn't his idea Reynolds!"

"If you are going to keep defending this... this… monster" Reynolds snarled "I don't want to hear it."

"Fine I won't defend him." Peter hastily took another tact, again.

"You won't?" that got Reynolds attention

"No" Peter sucked in a deep breath. There wasn't time argue he needed Reynolds to listen. "If he took her…if he did…he will not hurt her…he will keep her safe… the text said so." That calmed the other agent just a tiny bit "he has never hurt anyone… he's not going to start with a 3 year old…" Peter forced himself to breathe… to focus on the resources he needed from this office… not being in charge put him in a difficult positon… and he needed Reynolds cooperation.

"Good now we are on the same page"

"No we aren't, Neal was never in Brook Mont…"

"You're sure about that?"

"There is a message in the text…" Peter held up his notes **not running. Emily Safe demolished "**how many buildings are scheduled for demolition today?"

"You think he left her in a …?" horror flashed through Reynolds' eyes as the blood drained from his face.

"I doubt she is alone."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Neal couldn't help smirking… Steel Eyes cursed when the limp arm slipped out of his grasp and dropped heavily back to Neal's side … for the third time…

"Hold it up." He snapped

"Sorry… can't" he blinked against the stars that erupted in his vision when the man wrenched his arm back up... It was the truth, two weeks of therapy and he could swing the appendage at the shoulder a little, make the fingers twitch slightly, but holding it over his head while balancing on his toes…that was hopeless. The useless limb fell lifelessly from the man's grip again… Neal almost grinned…

"I said hold your arm up."

"We've been through this… remember… nerve damage…someone put a bullet through that shoulder…" Steel Eyes glared at him and jerked the leaden arm back above Neal's head, looping the packing twine around the wrist on the way up. Neal flinched as the thin bindings bit into this limp wrist…the appendage tried to slither away again and Steel Eyes growled profanities as his fingers dug into Neal's skin…A twinge shot through his shoulder when the man tugged on it again pulling his hand up to the fixture above the young man's head… to say the position was uncomfortable was putting it mildly… but at least his arm was frustrating someone other than himself.

He tried to see the clunky wrought iron sconce he was bound too but…he could only get a glimpse over his shoulder… black and heavy, clearly not part of the original décor of the room, it hung almost 8 feet from the floor…forcing him to stretch to his fullest height for his wrists to reach… the waxed packing twine was already beginning to chew into his hands as the old man twisted it around and around them… at least 10 loops around each arm. His chest and shoulder stretched painfully with the weight of his frame partially supported like it was. Breath whistled harshly in out of his scarred lungs in this position and his heart thudded desperately in protest. Neal pushed up on his toes as much as he could trying to relieve the pressure.

The rest of the room had undergone a garish redecorating to match the light above his head, the renovations here nearly complete, he thought as he focused on anything other than the shrieking in his chest. Orange and yellow speckled thick shag carpet stained over the years of abandonment with things Neal didn't even try to identify… dark wood paneling and yellow striped wall paper hung from crumbling walls… it was vaguely embarrassing that he was going to die in this room… wearing jeans and a t-shirt no less.

A tiny sound shifted his gaze, something between a hiccup and whimper came from the tiny body across the room. Emily was curled up in the corner on the dusty carpet, early morning light dancing over her delicate form… still sleeping, though not peacefully. She tossed fitfully and moaned "daddy" before her little finger slipped between her lips and she settled. A soft breeze from the broken window lifted her silky blonde hair from her forehead…

"Please." Neal looked at their captor… "She isn't part of this… please let her go… you can drop her off at a park and no one will even notice you." Old Steel Eyes just grinned at his pleading and turned away. The ring tone startled both of them. The older man grabbed the phone and headed for the door… with a look that under other circumstances his captive would have called fear.

"Wilson…" Neal heard the man say as he stepped though… "It's under control…"

Neal squirmed against the twine… testing its hold on his hands… dropping his weight against it fully. He nearly screamed as fire tore through his chest… but the twine held. He sighed pushing himself back up, gasping. He knew given time he could break free strand by strand but… he glanced at the growing light in the window…he didn't know how much time had passed since Steel Eyes …Wilson he corrected, shoved him in here …but the sun had come up before Wilson came back to tie him to the light fixture… he knew he didn't have much time. He wasn't sure he had the pain tolerance either.

Wilson stepped back into the room with an ugly look in his eyes… he set a small digital timer in the corner…

"It's 8 o'clock..." he grinned "in exactly 1 hour the first charges will go off…" he stepped close to Neal and whispered "you want to know where one of those charges is?" Neal refused to look at his nasty expression "there is a pillar in the basement… under that wall there." He waved toward

Emily." He moved back holding up the timer… "Thought you might enjoy knowing how many seconds you had left… have a nice morning…well the next hour of it anyway." He turned to leave…making no move toward the sleeping girl. Panic surged though his captive

"What about Emily… take her with you!" He choked. Was he actually begging a kidnapper to take a child? "Please… take her."

"Afraid I can't do that… it's a shame really… she is a cute kid, but my boss thinks her daddy needs a lesson in minding his own business."

Neal's heart dropped to his feet…

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Two…

There were two buildings scheduled for demolition in DC that day. One at 9:00am and one at 2:00 pm. They ran for the cars…Reynolds was certain they would only find his daughter there. That was a good thing, he thought, because he meant it when he said if there was one scratch on his baby he would kill Caffrey. Even if she wasn't hurt he wasn't sure what he would do if he ran into the man. First they had to get to the building in time to stop its destruction. If she was inside… Clearly Caffrey didn't care if she was killed or not if he left her there…

Reynolds was shaking, whether it was fear or fury… he didn't know but it definitely wasn't the warm spring morning. He had to get to her… he would get to her in time.

The ride was a silent one…Reynolds had nothing to say to Burke. Not now… later when Emily was safe… there was plenty he wanted to say. He would most likely be filing a complaint against the man. He still maintained his defense of Caffrey, relentlessly insisting that he would never kidnap a child… or anyone. He seemed to simmer with self-righteous anger despite the evidence against the man… despite Caffrey's confession.

Stepping out of the car, they hurried toward the old building searching for anything that would indicate Emily was here. Anything at all.

The warm sunshine and soft breeze touched his face but his heart remained frozen. It would have been a perfect day to go to the park with his baby.


	12. Chapter 12

He pushed his toes off the floor with a little jump allowing his weight to come down on his bruised, bleeding wrists with as much force as possible, stifling a choked scream… he swung from side to side, using the edges of the sconce to saw into his bindings. Agony ripped through him but his heart soared when he felt a tiny snap as a single strand of twine broke. He'd lost track of how many times he's repeated the painful process but at least it was starting to work. That thought gave him the strength to continue. Forcing air back into his chest he fumbled his toes back under him, legs shaking violently. A glance at the timer…20 minutes left… He jumped again…pain…the pop of another string. Again and again and again…he paused to breathe… wheezing. "Don't blackout" he told himself over the roaring in his ears and the darkening at the edges of his vision. His heart hammered furiously… 10 minutes… Neal glanced over his shoulder again… 3 more strands. His gaze turned across the room… Emily whimpered, her finger in her mouth… her beautiful eyes on him, her tiny lip trembling, watching his movements with trepidation. She pressed her back into the corner …putting as much distance between herself and Neal as she could. She was so young… just a baby…

"It's ok Emily… I'm going to get you home ..." he smiled at her… "I promise"

"You bad man." She responded "daddy says a bad man made mommy go away…" she hiccupped "you made daddy go away too…"

"No your daddy is fine… he's looking for you right now…" Neal drew a ragged breath…pushing up on his toes to get enough air to speak… "He's probably on his way here right now."

"Daddy said don't talk to you…" her finger found its way back to her mouth and she turned her back on him.

"It's going to be ok Emily…." No response… Neal sighed.

5 minutes… He pushed himself off the floor again… trying to stifle the cry that bubbled to his lips…

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

The only word to properly describe the demolitions foreman was solid… solid build, solid stance and clearly a solid head… solid stone. Peter stood less than 2 feet from him… trying to explain again… without losing his patience.

"There are 2 people inside the building I am certain of it… you have to stop the charges."

"There is no one in the building… we swept it not an hour ago."

"Please just give us time to do our own sweep…"

"I'm afraid I can't do that. Do you know how much it costs to put a project like this behind schedule?"

"There are 2 people trapped in that building… one of them is the three year old daughter of a federal agent… Do you know what it will cost you if you go forward without letting us find her?" the foreman paled…

"I have to call my boss on this."

"Call your boss? Fine… so get on the phone."

"It will take time."

"We don't have time… a young man and a little girl don't have time."

The man rolled his eyes and toyed with his phone. "I could get in trouble with my boss … calling him about something like this."

"You could get arrested if these people die."

"Ok …ok I'm calling."

Peter tapped his foot anxiously fighting the urge to run into the building. There wasn't time to search a building that size… he looked at his watch…8:50… 10 minutes… he looked at Reynolds… the man was slumped on the steps of the construction trailer.. Hands over his face. He looked up and shot a desperate look at the doorway, gauging the distance. 50 yards… Peter had make the same calculation when they arrived…he moved in front of the man

"Don't"

"You don't know what I'm thinking."

"You want to run into the building… Reynolds, I do too…" he swallowed "but getting ourselves killed isn't going to help them."

"You're so sure he's innocent…? What if you're wrong… couldn't possibly happen, right? You just remember my promise…if my baby is hurt…I don't care what his reasons for taking her… I will kill him"

"You're so sure he's guilty… WHAT IF **YOU"RE** WRONG!?" Peter fought to control his anger "what if he is innocent… what are you going to do if someone else took her… what if they used her to get to him? Are you going to admit you were wrong if we find him tied up in there? Or… " he gulped quickly he couldn't think about that.

"Why would someone take MY daughter to get to him?" Reynolds looked like he thought Peter had lost his mind. "That doesn't make any sense at all"

"Unless they knew how you would react if you thought he took her…" the younger agent glowered at him with disbelief.

"That's ridiculous!'

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Neal dropped to the floor… free. "Get up" he told himself "you don't have time to lay here." But his body refused to move…his chest was on fire… his heart hammered a frenzied staccato against his ribs. His head swam crying out for oxygen… his legs folded awkwardly beneath him…apparently paralyzed… his lax right arm curled haphazardly beneath his body…his left arm wrapped around his throbbing ribs… he could track the exact path the bullet carved though his body last month… every inch of it was burning like someone had poured acid though the wound… "Come on Caffrey, get up!" his mind ordered… the timer ticked relentlessly…2 minutes… he needed to move! There was something else he needed to be doing too… Breathe... he remembered. He gasped…choked on the dust from the old carpet.

He struggled to his knees… using the wall, he lurched to his feet… Emily.

She was still watching him warily…

1 minute…

Still time to pick Emily up and get her through the broken window. He stumbled toward the little girl… She backed away fearfully…

"Its ok…" he tried to reassure her "Its ok…I'm going to get you out of here"

"NOOO! BAD MAN!

She darted to his right… for such a tiny thing she was incredibly quick. Neal dove after her… his fingertips just brushed her shoulder… as she twisted away… clearly terrified.

30 seconds…

Desperate he lunged forward again and grabbed her by the arm… she screamed. She kicked and bucked… she bit his hand… Emily slipped from his grasp

15 seconds…

He wrapped his arm around her waist holding her like a sack of flour… she slammed her little head into the half healed wound at the base of his ribs… he dropped her again, with a strangled cry.

5 seconds

He frantically wrapped his arms around the toddler… he staggered 3 steps…

0 …

Neal dropped to his knees wrapping his body protectively around Emily… miraculously even his right arm flopped around her small shoulders, he gripped the elbow with his other hand, sheltering her against his chest… He held her tight…

The ground fell out from under him… with a roar the world collapsed around him…leaving only darkness… the child's wail echoed endlessly through his mind.


	13. Chapter 13

Too late!

Reynolds stared at the building in despair… the foreman's password had halted the demolition… but not before the first round of charges detonated. He heard the man explaining the building was unstable now… that they would have to wait… Wait? No! His baby was in there somewhere…

He was running… Part of his mind registered that he wasn't alone but no one else mattered, he just had to find her.

"EMILY!" he screamed… "EMILY!" Other voices echoed his calls… He heard one voice call another name and he hated that voice… "How dare anyone look for someone else…" he thought.

He darted through the debris filled halls…the silence taunted him… He choked on the dust filled air…His grief blinded him as he stumbled in a maze of rubble

"EMILY!"

He heard it… a child crying… a little voice filled with pain and terror… "Emily!"

The door was locked…NO! Reynold slammed his body into the door…once, twice… the door splintered open on the fourth strike. His shoulder aching, he reeled into the room and stood trembling just inside… half the room was gone, along with the 4 rooms above it…collapsed through the gaping hole into the basement… He couldn't breathe… Emily was under that pile of rubble… Her plaintive wails came from below.

Wails? Crying meant she was alive … and conscious… and clearly terrified… Panic and rage mixed in perfect proportion ripped through his heart.

"EMILY!" I'm coming baby… he promised silently…Daddy's coming…just hang on.

He dove through the hole into the dark cavernous space below. On his knees digging through the broken stone and iron with his bare hands he felt his nails chip, break, bleed… his knuckles scrape on the rough edges… his pants and the skin underneath tear on the stone. He didn't stop, just desperately followed that beautiful heartbreaking sound…that sound that meant his baby was still there. He called her name again and again… relief and agony filled his mind when her wails turned to "DAAAAAADDY!"

He prayed… tears ran down his dirty cheeks… he cursed THAT MAN … no, he refused to consider Caffrey a man… that monster …that brought her here… left her here, alone… promising him a painful death… the moment he found him.

His hand brushed against something that wasn't stone … or metal. An arm…a man's upper arm and shoulder… the arm was clearly broken, but he didn't care because he caught a glimpse of Emily's blonde hair beneath that arm… he yanked debris away frantically…uncovering a dark head, blood seeping from a gash at the hairline…and a pale face twisted with pain, more blood on the cheek, and around the lips…

Reynolds didn't care what condition Caffrey was in… he did this, he was the reason Emily was hurt and afraid and maybe… No! He wouldn't even think that… he pushed the chilling thought away… he just needed to get to her and everything would be ok…

He wrenched the broken arm away from his daughter… extracting a scream from the man who held her. Emily was tucked in a tiny cavity in the rubble … a cavity created by Caffrey's body, lying on his side, he enfolded her like he was…Reynolds pushed the faint misgiving away as finally freed, Emily scrambled into her daddy's arms…

"DADDY!" she wailed as he picked her up… little arms wrapping tightly around his neck. Reynolds breathed again. She didn't seem to be badly hurt… he held his baby. She cried into his shoulder and he sobbed with her… He needed to get her out of here… he should probably send help for the injured man too…he sighed, tempted to just leave him…except… doubt niggled at his mind… if he brought her here … why hadn't he left...? Why was he lying broken in the rubble, with Emily in his arms?

"Em…mmily" he whirled to look at Caffrey… and froze, a chill running down his spine as his eyes fell on something that shifted the world under his feet …it wasn't the way the man's eyes tried to focus, his voice whispering her name again… or how he choked then… painful gasping coughs that shook his whole frame… more blood spattered the wreckage near his mouth… not the way the exposed side of his chest seemed to cave in… no, Reynolds didn't see his face or his body… his eyes were fixed on the arm that still trailed over the debris at Caffrey's back… the arm that bend unnaturally between the elbow and shoulder… the arm that moved feebly as if searching for something. He stared in disbelief at the bruised, bloody wrist… couldn't tear his eyes away… he knew what made a wrist look like that… it could only be one thing, ligature marks… Someone else **had** held him prisoner. Reynolds' doubt turned to certainty. He suddenly knew what happened. The man's wrist had been bound… and from the look of it... he had nearly torn his hand off to get free, but he hadn't run to safety… he stayed, to wrap his arms… his body… around Emily… to protect her from the crushing stone…

Reynolds was going to be sick…"**_What if he's innocent?" _**Burke's words echoed though his mind. "**_What if you're wrong?" _**His mind reeled… the ground lurched, as the realization of what he'd done ripped through his mind… He was going to fix this. He was going to make it right… somehow.

His eyes traveled over what he could see of the young man. Head, shoulder, arm and part of his chest… everything else was still buried… unfocused blue eyes moving rapidly back and forth searching for something, broken arm fumbling over the rubble reaching…feeling for … Reynold couldn't look anymore. He turned his eyes to his daughter… dirty, tousled, pajamas torn, a small bruise on her cheek, a cut on her arm, tear streaks on her cheeks, her little finger wedged in her mouth… she gazed at him with clear frightened eyes… She was ok… banged up but safe.

"Tom!"

He looked up through the dust that filled the air … and the haze that filled his mind as someone called to him… Robert.

"Tom… is she ok? How badly is she hurt?"

"she's ok…" he looked over at the broken man… still half concealed by cruel granite, thinking of the tiny safe crevice Emily had been clutched in.. "She was protected from the worst of it." Reynolds made a decision "Robert… I need you to get Emily outside… and get paramedics in here. As soon as possible…10 minutes ago if you can!" he responded to the shock on his probie's face "she wasn't alone!" the kid froze…

"You mean…?" he didn't answer that… he couldn't…

Removing his daughter's hands from his neck was the hardest thing he had ever done, she whimpered and clung to him fearfully… But he passed her up to the safety of Robert's grasp with whispered reassurance that he would come get her very soon…

"And Robert…"

"Yeah?"

"Find Burke"

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Peter was getting desperate… since he followed Reynolds into the condemned building he had seen no trace of either Neal or the little girl. He heard other agents calling through the haze that filled air but they were shadows flitting though the destruction… one of the shadows drifted close enough he could get a clearer glimpse of him. Robert… Reynolds' probie clutching a small figure… Emily clung to the familiar form with all her strength. Blood trickled from a cut on her arm and from a nasty scrape on her leg, the agent held her tightly against his chest, effectively immobilizing the toddler. At least the shivering child was alive, Peter thought. When the young man spoke to him… he almost didn't catch it.

"Reynolds wants you…" the kid jerked his head back the direction he came. "He's back there. Second hall on the right… you'll know the door when you see it." Peter ran…

The door was broken, hanging crookedly open… half the room inside had collapsed into a gaping void. His breath caught… he had a bad feeling what he would find below.

He lowered himself into the hole carefully. The dim light made the shadows eerie…the space was too quiet, he thought. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness the shape of Reynolds hunched over the rubble became visible… Peter's mind went red when he realized the other agent was kneeling over a still body half buried in the avalanche of metal and stone…his hands on the man's face… Neal.

Reynolds' promise to kill the young man flashed though his mind…

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Reynolds didn't watch Emily and Robert go. He scrambled back over the rubble.

"Can you hear me?" he asked the injured man… he grasped the damaged hand… gently this time, frightened of causing more pain now. "I'm going to get you out… ok?" The blue eyes tried to focus… widening with panic as he recognized Reynolds

" 'm sor...ry..." tears filled his eyes "Em...mily… I… can…can't … find... her…w-was …here…" his gaze darted frantically… "I… tried…tried to… save …I'm…so… sorry" he trailed off choking again… tears escaping unnoticed…

"Shhh…it's ok. She's ok… just rest." Reynolds swallowed. He had been so sure this man was a monster… and now… what could he say to him…? "I'm sorry … I'm so sorry." **_sorry for what? _**His conscience raged at him **_sorry you misjudged him? Sorry you let the real monsters destroy an innocent man? Sorry for hurting him? Sorry he's going to die here…_**he tried to shove the last thought away… but it didn't budge, because the possibility was far too apparent. "I'm going to get you out, ok?" those bright eyes never left his face, struggling to stay focused. **_What have I done?_**

He started to shift the stone and metal off of the trembling body… so he didn't have to meet those eyes…

"Stay with me… ok...?" he froze as the man gave a little sound…almost a sob. "I'm sorry… I'm not trying to hurt you… we have to get you out of here. The building isn't safe" He risked a glance at the pale face and was surprised to get a nod. "You understand me?" another tiny nod, though the movement seemed to cause pain "good… your friend…Peter, he'll be here soon."

"Go...od…"Caffrey's face moved as if trying to smile. "Trust … Pe...ter" as if his friend's mere presence could somehow save him. The agent gulped… finally understanding Burke's fierce loyalty to the man. How could you willingly betray such trust? **_You're a good man… like Peter. _** Reynolds shifted more rubble... he couldn't look the man in the eye any longer. For a moment the only sound was stone scraping on stone.

"Why?" Reynolds asked…

"Wha-at?"

"Why did you do this? Why did you protect my baby?"

"She's… thr-three…and… daddy… needs... her…" as if that explained everything. Reynolds looked at him, then turned back to freeing him. It was all he could do to fix this… There was just one problem… a huge block of granite lay across Caffrey's legs… the massive stone must weigh at least a thousand pounds… its bulk twisted the man's body to an impossible angle at the hips… Thomas set his shoulder against it… he shifted the block just a bit…

The scream echoed unnaturally loud in the dim room… Reynolds froze…Caffrey's back arched, every muscle tense as a bow string… quivering. Then, to his horror, the tension vanished completely… the shivering body going absolutely lax in an instant. The stillness was as loud in the dark, as the scream. He swore…

"Caffrey?" no response… he moved back to the pale face… checking for a pulse... there it was. His heart was stuttering… struggling but still beating. "Caffrey … do you hear me?" he touched the man's hair "Neal…?" He couldn't free the young man alone…that was painfully obvious, but he couldn't leave him either…

Strong hands grabbed him from behind and physically threw him away from the prone form. He struck the floor and gasped … stunned for a moment

"Get away from him!" Burke's face was twisted in the dim, dusty light. He turned away and knelt beside the broken body under the rubble… he didn't say a word. …Reynolds watched him touch the ashen cheek… smooth the dark hair… A strangled sound escaped his throat… he took the limp hand gently…

"We need to get him out of here…" Reynolds voice was brittle "it isn't stable in here… the rest of this place could come down." Burke nodded

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Catching him by the shoulders and heaving him several feet away, his every instinct and moment of training went into that one movement. With a deep rage and strength he didn't know he had Peter threw the man away from his friend…

"Get away from him!"

Then he knelt beside Neal…studying his lifeless face, the broken arm that sagged motionless from his shoulder… the way the side of his chest caved in slightly…the faint grey cast of his skin. It was all too clear, he was too late, his friend was gone… that broken body couldn't be alive…there were too many injuries…too much damage. He touched Neal's face… softly… as if he could still cause him pain. He tried to wipe the blood from the pale cheek, brushed the brown hair away from his eyes. Tears came unnoticed…he choked back the sob... sitting back on his heels he took the limp hand in his "I'm sorry… I let you down" he thought… "I promised I would protect you…I'm so sorry"

"We need to get him out of here." Reynolds' voice was surprisingly gentle… Peter didn't hear the rest of what the man said but he nodded… because he had no intention of leaving Neal here… he couldn't save him, but he would not let this awful place be his tomb.

"There's a slab of granite..." Reynolds stepped up beside him and pointed "pinning his legs… I couldn't move it alone. When I tried…" he managed another nod…still gripping the younger man's hand mournfully… despite his best efforts he was going to bury his best friend again… and this time…and this time… there would be no Bordeaux… no storage unit with clues to bring him home… this time…

A hand on his shoulder snapped him back to the task at hand… he could hate Reynolds later… he knew he would, but right now he needed his help. He picked himself up and moved to the block of stone, preparing to shove it aside… to his surprise Reynolds stopped him…

"Careful." He looked at the other agent "you don't want to hurt him." surprise turned to disbelief.

"Don't…" he glared at the man

"He's alive… at least he was a minute ago…" Reynolds didn't meet his eyes … when he spoke again it was a broken whisper "We're going to save him… "


	14. Chapter 14

**auther's note: I am not by any means an expert in the medical field... if you are, please overlook my ignorance... hope you all enjoy.**

Everyone was working franticly around him but Peter sat still, as if suspended in time … his eyes on his friend's face... The construction workers moved the debris that held Neal on his side first … hoping to ease the strain on his hips, they turned him carefully to his back… now they tried to work a jack under the slab of rock without letting it shift… even unconscious Neal cried out when the stone moved even slightly…their movements tense and nervous. They weren't used to lives depending on their actions.

The paramedics' actions were no less rapid and tense but their faces were calm. They lay an oxygen mask over his face, inserted an IV, and slipped a brace around his neck and a splint on his arm, called out numbers as they rapidly checked vitals… In the midst of the controlled chaos around them…Peter sat unmoving, Neal's head resting on his knee. He held the young man's head between his hands, watching the ashen face tense and relax as pain swept through his body in waves. He murmured soft words of encouragement, hoping the young man could hear him. Neal tensed again and opened his eyes. Peter almost laughed when the kid forced a half smile, his gaze surprisingly clear.

"If you are planning to tell me you're fine… don't." To his relief the blue eyes sparked with a hint of humor, before a wave of pain drove it away. Then Neal's attention left his face… searching for something "Don't try to move…we're working on getting you out. Hang in there… ok?" The nod was miniscule

"Where's… em...mily?"

"She's safe…" the feeble smile widened in relief. "She's with Reynolds" he ground the name between his teeth. The medic, a blonde, blued eyed kid that didn't look more than 20, swooped in then.

"Sir, can you give me your name?" he shone a small light in Neal's eyes causing him to flinch away. "Can you understand me? I need you to squeeze my hand if you do." Neal's turned his eyes away from the kid, giving Peter a look…**_is this guy serious? _**That look…it gave Peter hope for the first time since they found him.

"I know it's difficult for you, but try to be cooperative." Peter's voice was far from light but he tried.

"Can…n't" he whispered. Each syllable punctuated by a small wheezing gasp "Squeeze… your… hand" the words startled the kid

"Why not?" he asked warily but he looked pleased with his patient's responsiveness…

"Brok...en…"Neal struggled for air… "Felt… it" the kid smiled gently...

"What about this one?" he took the right hand, smiling, obviously trying to distract him from his agony. The look Neal sent the kid was resigned… and sad. His friend answered for him…

"That one was injured before…"

Neal choked, a pitiful strangled sound…and the hands were immediately forgotten as the kid pressed a stethoscope to his chest muttering about breath sounds, oxygen levels and pulse rate… he glanced at Peter and said softly "keep him as quiet as you can." All teasing gone from his voice. The young man turned away demanding how much longer from the work crew, his voice tense.

Peter regarded his friend… Neal met his gaze, shivering. The older man tucked the emergency blanket closer around his shoulders. Then he took his right hand… "Just try to rest" a nod, his eyes almost drifting closed… Suddenly they flew wide open, his face twisted with fear.

"G...got to…tell… him...g-got to…" he wheezed harshly "Em-emly…tell him…keep her…keep her...safe."

"Shhh… its ok… Neal... remember I told you, she's safe with her dad."

'No. Wil…Wilson …said…" he gasped…fighting for air in tiny rattling breaths… "Pet-Peter…he…sai-d … teach… him…lesson" he forced the words out before succumbing to another fit of coughing.

The medic was back now... "Sir… Mr. Collins… I need you to try to take some slow deep breaths…don't try to talk any more…"he glanced at the O2 monitor in his hand… then to his partner "he's at 74%... I'm going to give him one minute to come back up then we'll have to intubate…" his attention came back to his patient… "That's it stay calm… just breathe." Peter couldn't move…as their movements became frantic. He caught snatches of their hurried conversation "Bp is dropping… pulse 140… I keep losing radial pulse" Peter kept his eyes locked on Neal's frightened stare… to his surprise the hand in his shifted slightly…

"Peter…name…Wil- Wilson…"

"The man who brought you here?" a tiny shift of his head before his eyes slid shut.

"We got the slab up!" someone shouted triumphantly. Then "we need bolt cutters over here!"

Peter risked a look… a sliver of rusted iron nearly an inch wide was wedged though Neal's right knee, bent where it struck the floor underneath testifying to the force with which it had been driven through the flesh. The sight of it was bad…sickening, but it was his left leg that made his friend gag… it was definitely broken…splinters of bone protruding from the flesh in several places… The medics cut away the pant swiftly revealing skin that was a horrible patchwork of black, blue, green, red and grey-white, blood spilling out of ragged wounds around white edges of bone. They wrapped a pressure bandage around the crushed limb before sliding a splint in place…

Then he was free and Peter was pushed away as they prepared to move him.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Thomas sat in the Emergency Room cubical holding his daughter…waiting to see a doctor. Emily nestled against his chest, sleeping contentedly, one arm wrapped around a teddy bear the paramedics gave her. Her right arm sported a bandage…the cut would most likely need a couple of stitches, another bandage adorned her left calf... covering an ugly scrape the size of her daddy's palm. She had a few smaller scrapes and some bruises. As far as anyone could tell that was the extent of her injuries. Her father's gratitude for that was immeasurable… he sighed at the thought of the object of that gratitude.

The glimpse into the trauma room as he and Emily were escorted from the ambulance to the cubical lingered in his mind…ten or twelve people huddled over a terrifyingly still figure…torn dirty pieces of clothing scattered across the floor… blood dripping from the table… at the center of the storm a bruised impassive face… and that bloody wrist that would stay with Reynolds until the day he died. He kept walking… he didn't want to see anymore…

He could still hear the commotion down the hall as the emergency response team fought to keep the man alive… a fight that he doubted they would win. Sitting on the curb earlier he witnessed the paramedic's dash to the waiting ambulance. They paused a moment just shy of the vehicle to slide a vent tube down the young man's throat and inject something into the IV line. He looked like he was already gone. Worse, was the look Reynolds got of his fellow agent's face …pale and set like stone, watching them work, a look of terrible grief in his eyes.

How many times in the early hours of the morning had Burke told him his friend would not kidnap a child… begged him to consider Caffrey might be in danger…how many times over the last weeks had he tried to reason with Thomas that there was more to Caffrey than he had read, urged him to at least read the rest of the file… or better yet just talk to him. Pleaded with him to treat him like a person…? Now he let this happen… Now he would probably never know the kind of man he really was.

That wasn't true…Reynolds shifted to look at his baby… he knew the kind of man Caffrey was. This precious gift in his arms told him everything he really needed to know. Their brief conversation played through his mind in an endless playback

"Why did you protect my baby?"

"She's… thr-three… an' …daddy … needs …her…" What did that mean? It couldn't mean the man did it for him, could it? After all he did … all he said to him… about him. Wearily he closed his eyes…the broken arm fumbling over the stone…blood dripping from the torn wrist…Thomas snapped his eyes open. It would be a long time before he could close his eyes without seeing that.

The doctor came in then, gently examining Emily's arm and leg. He smiled at her, and patted her head. He gave her a mild sedative before administering four stitches and ordering a CT scan …just in case, he said.

When they were released an hour later the trauma room down the hall was silent and empty.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

"Family of Nicholas Collins?" the doctor's look was tense when Peter stood. She shook his hand curtly giving him a doubtful look.

"Different fathers" he answered her look. It wasn't a lie, he told himself and he didn't have the strength to argue with her. She nodded and directed him to the conference room.

She regarded him a moment before she began "I am sorry… we have been unable to stabilize Mr. Collins…" Peter took a deep breath steadying his voice

"What does that mean?"

"His injuries are extensive… several broken ribs resulting in critical damage to his lungs and the soft tissue around them, his left lung is the worst…suffering severe bruising and crush trauma as well as puncture injuries from the ribs . His liver and kidneys are significantly bruised as well. There is considerable internal bleeding. His left humorous is broken… his right knee has serious cartilage damage and the tendon is severed, but the bones are intact… both hips are dislocated and the soft tissue around the left one is in bad shape, muscles and ligaments torn loose from the joint … his left femur is shattered and the leg was badly crushed…blood loss is, of course a life-threatening concern as is the trauma to his left side… including his lung…Fortunately the head injury seems to be insignificant." she paused, her motherly face softening at the expression in Peter's eyes... "I'm sorry… I know this is a lot to take in."

He swallowed hard "so… all of this means…? You said you haven't been able to stabilize him… what does this mean… for N-Nick?" she sighed deeply…

"I'm sure his previous doctor mentioned the stress the injury put on his heart…'

"Yes…" he wasn't sure he wanted to hear

"With the further damage to his lungs, they are not processing oxygen effectively even with the aid of the ventilator… add the blood loss and the incredible level of pain….the stress is increased dramatically…" she lay her hand on his arm gently "His heart is failing…"

"So he's …"

"He is fighting…harder than anyone I've ever seen… trying his best to hang on…" she smiled sadly "given his injuries he should be in coma … or…" she shook her head in wonder " he has briefly regained consciousness three times since he's been in my care… but despite his will to live and our best efforts…his blood pressure has repeatedly dropped to extremely dangerous levels… and his oxygen concentration is far too low and will not come up, even intubated… I'm afraid he may already be suffering from significant oxygen deprivation" she looked Peter straight in the eye at the sharp intake of breath "I want you to understand that while his condition is very grave, I am not willing to give up on him just yet, not when he is fighting so hard, however the only chance I see of saving him will require an incredibly drastic action… not one I suggest lightly…and the decision needs to be made immediately."

"Ok?"

"I recommend putting him on a cardiopulmonary bypass." She hesitated… "This decision requires a family member's consent… it is not without significant potential complications, normally we only use it during surgery but… it will allow his heart to rest… his lungs to heal a little…"

"And if we don't do it."

"He will be dead within the hour."


	15. Chapter 15

He stood beside the bed, frozen, gazing at the body there. The man was always so full of life, of movement… he was supposed to be squirming impatiently…grinning…cracking jokes… Peter took in the scene before him quietly, resisting the urge to lose control took all of his will… the scene was all too familiar…with a pained breath he studied the pale expressionless features, from the lightly closed eyes, dark lashes resting on grey white cheeks, to the colorless lips… parted slightly by the loose jaw, head drooping marginally to the side. He glanced at the quiet sagging limbs, right hand resting across the body… a sheet covering the bare frame to the waist… he took in the silent stillness… absolute stillness… the sunken motionless chest…

That, Peter decided, was the most disturbing part… Neal wasn't breathing… it sent a chill through him… the doctors assured him the younger man was alive… but the lack of physical evidence was horrifying. He didn't breathe… he had no pulse… his skin was cool to the touch. Tubes twisted away from his chest carrying blood to and from his body… to a machine that quietly did the job his heart and lungs should have been doing. Dr. Lindsey Cole had walked him through exactly how it worked… along with a list of potential complications that made his head spin. The machine, she said, really wasn't designed to be used more than a few hours… but in extreme cases such as this… it could maintain life for a few days…

Bandages covered most of his chest… his cheek… his wrists…bruises marked much of his visible flesh… a splint held his left arm rigid, though the fingers curled around it limply…

A litany of other tubes and wires cluttered the bed twisting into and around his quiet form … catheters… drainage tubes…IVs… he had no idea what the purpose of most of them were… only that they were there to sustain life in a body that did not breathe…

Peter took a breath… and touched his friend's cold arm gently…keeping him slightly hypothermic was necessary the doctor said… it lessened the chance of organ damage to keep his core temperature at 94 degrees… it still felt a h*** of a lot like death. He forced his hand to pat the arm reassuringly… to brush at the dark hair softly…to clutch a slim hand convulsively… to do anything but stand there utterly helpless…

He could leave … Neal wouldn't wake... they were keeping him unconscious through this… thankfully. They promised he wasn't in pain… that he was resting comfortably … peacefully… He could walk away, Neal probably didn't know he was there but… after the doctor's devastating news and the gut wrenching decision to let them stop the younger man's heart… after waiting through 8 hours of surgery to control the bleeding and stabilize fractures… he needed to be here, at least for a while. He wasn't a praying man but while he cradled that still hand… he sent a silent plea upward that this would work… and that if it did, the man that came out of it would still be the man he knew. Dr. Cole said brain damage was a real possibility… though she wouldn't discuss the potential severity.

"Let's just get him through the next few days" she said… "One step at a time." Her voice was gentle.

He lay his hand on the dark hair again…

"You will get through this… you hear me… I don't know what the future holds… but you hang on and we will deal with the rest when it comes."

Peter jumped slightly as the door opened.

"Hey Boss" Diana stepped into the room her eyes drifting involuntarily to the bed… she gasped, paling slightly.

"Diana ..." she pulled her gaze back to his face with a small shudder.

"I'm sorry boss…it's just… he looks…" she swallowed

"I know…"

"I'm sorry…" she collected herself quickly "I came to tell you Agent Reynolds asked me to talk to you."

"What does he have to say…"

"About … about the case… not much." Her smile was tight. "He is… contrite…" Diana gave him a hard look, her eyes expressing exactly what she thought of that. "He's told me a dozen times he's sorry" Peter snorted "he asked me to tell you how sorry he is"

"I don't want his apology!" he snapped harshly, tears threatened him but he blinked them away "Unless he can somehow make this right… make this go away…"

"I know boss, but he is working the case…"

"Yeah…" Peter sighed and sank into the chair suddenly exhausted. Something tickled at his memory… "Diana…" he looked up "Neal gave me a name… this morning… while they were trying… trying to get him out…"

"A name?"

"Yeah… Wilson… he said the man who took them… his name is Wilson…" for just a moment he was tempted to stop there but for the child's sake he continued "he said Reynolds should … keep Emily safe… that Wilson said something about teaching her daddy a lesson."

"I'll let him know…

"Thanks' he slumped back in the chair… "I'm going to stay here tonight… tell him I'll be in his office tomorrow."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Thomas stared at the computer screen…his eyes blurring. He was tired… exhausted, but he couldn't go home… he had to find something… a clue to go on. He couldn't fix this… couldn't undo what he had done but… maybe if he could just find …something…insure that justice was done… maybe that would… He ran his fingers through his hair… midnight… he had been up almost 21 hours…he wished he could go home and sleep but… he closed his eyes… he could still see…

A black wrought iron sconce nearly 8 feet from the ground…the wall beneath it was smeared with blood, the ground splattered with it…he could imagine the pain that position must have caused…the broken twine lay on the floor… still damp with the scarlet liquid… Jim found it …amid the chaos of the rescue. A crime scene oddly preserved … 15 feet from the yawning chasm in the floor... the man would have been safe if he had just stayed there… or fled through the door… but he had gone to the other side of the room… toward the danger… the implications were clear…even to the younger agents… Not that Reynolds needed any more proof…

Emily cried out in her sleep. Tossed her head pitifully as she slept on the couch. He should have taken her home but he couldn't bear to let her out of his sight. "DAAADDDYY!" She screamed, bolting up. He caught her gently…

"Its ok baby…its ok daddy's here."

"d- dad-dy" she sobbed clinging to him. "Bad man grabbed me."

"I know baby, I know"

"He grabbed me and then everyting broked…" his heart froze as he realized suddenly who she meant.

"Emily… baby…"

"The other man made me go with him…"

"I know…"

"The bad man singed to me… but I membered what you said… and I tried not to let him grab me… I hit him… and bited him but he grabbed me and … and… everyting broked"

"You fought him? Oh baby…" he didn't really want to hear the rest, but he desperately hoped she was talking about their abductor "how long after he grabbed you did everything break?" she looked at him confused…

"When he grabbed me…. And…and den he didn't let go…and it was dark and scary and …and…I heared you but he wouldn't LET ME GO!" she was sobbing now… Thomas clutched her to him… tears in his own eyes.

"Emily… baby?" he felt sick as the reality hit him… his own words… Emily could have died because he told her to be afraid of the man… Caffrey probably would die…might be dead already… "I did this …he might have been able to get them out… at least get them to the other side of the room … the relatively undamaged side of the room… I did this!" he thought. "Baby…I'm sorry…I shouldn't have told you Mr. … Mr. Collins was a bad man…"

"But…"

"Emily listen to me, daddy was wrong…"he took her little hand in his and looked straight into her eyes "Mr. Collins was trying to take care of you… to make sure you got home to me…he did take care of you" now for the hard part "baby… he was hurt … really bad… to make sure you came home to daddy…and now… now he might go away like mommy did."

The little girl considered that… "Daddy…" she said softly… "Would Molly and my blankie make him feel better?" he smiled at her

"I don't know baby… I just don't know." he cuddled her close as she drifted off easily…

A knock brought his head up. Agent Berrigan stood in the door way… she looked as exhausted as he felt… a dark haunted look lingered in the back of her eyes… sending a chill through him. He knew what that look probably meant.

"Did you see… agent Burke?"

"I did."

"Any news… how is…?"

"Alive… technically… for now" She clipped bitterly, then she took a steadying breath, a bit calmer she continued in a coolly professional tone "Peter…said Neal gave him a name for their abductor…"

Thomas stared at her. "He gave us a name?" disbelief laced his voice.

"Wilson…" she glanced at Emily hesitantly. "Agent Reynolds… Neal gave Peter a message for you… he said to protect Emily… that Wilson was supposed to teach you a lesson." The urge to be sick was back… Emily was still in danger… the man he threatened to kill this morning was still protecting her… even as he was dying … Worse he was supposed to protect the young man… he placed his life in Thomas' hands… and Thomas threw him away…like so much garbage… and he still lay down his life for Emily. Reynolds wondered if the guilt would ever wash away… he glowered at his hands… he had a feeling he would see blood on them… for a very long time.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Diana carefully lay the pictures out in front of the foreman… Reynolds ran the name Wilson through the system overnight, both as a first and a last name… narrowed by those known to be in the area… narrowed it further by their criminal history… he came up with four names.

She had hardly gotten the pictures arranged when the sturdy man grabbed the third one…

"I know him." his eyes flicker to her face nervously

"How?" She stared him down "Did you see him yesterday?"

"Yeah," he gulped "yeah I did. He was the inspector who cleared the building."

"He's the one who told you the building was empty? Are you sure?"

"Yes" another gulp as he handed the picture back to her with a trembling hand "he's the one"

"Thank you." She gave him a stiff smile... she reached for the door handle.

"The young man…" the foreman's voice shook "From yesterday… did he… did he make it?" Diana scowled. She really didn't want to discuss this but…

"We don't know yet…" her voice cracked slightly "he's still… hanging in there but…it's bad." the man nodded. Diana hurried out then before he could catch the hint of tears in her eyes.

In the car she looked at the picture he selected… Henry J. Wilson… freelance enforcer… 25 years in the business… he never been convicted of anything but simple assault but he had been suspected in close to a dozen aggravated assaults and 4 or 5 disappearances/ murders. Unlike most enforcers he was a slim built man with thinning grey hair and steel grey eyes… his methods were known to be unconventional… a building demolition was right up his alley actually… his methods and being a known associate of a man that matched Neal's drawing of one of the shooters…had placed him at the top of the list… now with an ID, it just came down to finding him…and his friend Lance Chambers… she swore they wouldn't get far.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Peter focused on his coffee…he couldn't stare at the computer … or the papers scattered across his borrowed desk any more…his body ached with fatigue, sleeping in a hospital chair was uncomfortable at best. Doing so under the current circumstance was… almost impossible… the only reason he slept at all was sheer collapse.

Dr. Cole assured him this morning that nothing had changed…Neal was doing as well as could be expected…there was no evidence of blood clots or worsening organ failure, his bruised kidneys and liver were still holding up … they would know more when they tried to upgrade him to a ventilator in a couple of days, until then… he remained in a medically induced coma and the machine would keep him alive… there really wasn't anything else to assess…the conversation was both comforting and devastating.

After that he just couldn't be there anymore, couldn't think about a vent being an upgrade in status. He needed some space …something else to focus his mind on. . He could be more useful at the office. So he left… leaving his number with the staff and stipulating they call if there was even the slightest change.

He promised Neal softly he would be back soon… he knew it was ridiculous, but part of him hoped for a response… even a tiny one…but the young man continued to lay as motionless and pallid as death… his icy hand as pliable and unresponsive as a wet dish rag. Not even the slightest quiver of an eyelash acknowledged his words… Peter sighed, squeezing the lifeless hand once more before draping it tenderly across the still abdomen… and turning away.

Guards were posted outside the room… young agents who yesterday morning had sneered at his defense of Neal's innocence… this morning they stood at solemn attention with chastised expressions and did not meet his eye. He noticed their fugitive glances into the room, regret … shame… and something else he couldn't quite place, in their eyes. Whatever happened in that collapsed building… it was more than just finding Neal there… there was something no one was telling him…

Reynolds didn't say a word when Peter strode through the door and announced that he was going to be part of the investigation… simply waved him to an empty desk and gave him access to the case files without meeting his eyes. The entire office was looking for Henry Wilson… Peter wanted them to find him…but he was more interested in who he took his orders from… because if they couldn't find that person…there would be more Wilsons…assuming of course, he sighed almost hopelessly, there was still a target.

Three hours in and he allowed himself a break for coffee…because his weary eyes refused to focus anymore…

"Agent Burke?" Reynolds sounded surprised…and nervous "I didn't realize you were in here." He turned to go…then paused… looked back and steeled himself "I should have listened to you from the beginning and I will understand if you recommend a review board for disciplinary action."

With an effort Peter quashed the desire to lash out at the man…to put his hand around his throat and throttle him… to bust his lip…and kept his voice low… "I'm interested in one thing from you right now…and one thing only…you help me find whoever is behind this… and when we do… they go away… for good."

"I guarantee it. Agent Burke…"

"Good" he turned away dismissively, finished with the conversation.

"I…know it doesn't change anything but…I'm-"

"Don't!" He hissed, "Don't you DARE say you are sorry…" his look could have stripped the paint from the walls, his quiet voice dangerous "I'm not the one you need to ask forgiveness…After Neal says he forgives you … then you can ask me to" Peter sank into a chair, they both knew the likelihood of that ever happening. Silence enveloped the room… lingering heavy in the air…

"Still if there is anything I can…"

"There isn't." his voice radiated ice

"I should have known-."

"Yes. You should have"

"For what it's worth… if I could go back…"

"But we can't!" Reynolds suddenly found a small stain on the carpet very interesting…

"I know" he turned to go

"I hoped …" Peter said mostly to himself but Reynolds stopped in the door. "just this once the system would work **for** him…he deserves it after everything we've done to him…all we've put him through…Justice is supposed to be for everyone… I'm not sure I believe that now." Then remembering he wasn't alone he pulled himself together

"You don't think the system works Agent Burke?"

"Most of the time it does…" he sighed "but not for Neal...not ever for Neal…" he stalked back to his desk.


	16. Chapter 16

Peter paced…35 minutes… they said it would take half an hour to remove the bypass and transfer him to the ventilator…which made Dr. Cole late… he didn't want to think about what that meant... but he couldn't help it. After three days of lying quiet … at rest… what if his heart wouldn't start…? What if his lungs still couldn't process enough oxygen to sustain life, even with the air being forced into them…? What if…all of this had been meaningless …merely prolonging a life that had already gone…He clenched his fists and locked his jaw… he couldn't fall apart… couldn't allow himself to think like that.

They were closing in on Wilson… Reynolds and his team might be arresting him right now. D*** he hoped so. He wanted that man locked up… no, he wanted to lock him in a building and demolish it around him… he wanted to … he sighed and collapsed back into the chair…

45 minutes… Dr. Cole stepped into the room, her face serious.

"How …" he tried to read that face "How did it go?"

"The transfer was successful…" he sagged in relief "however…" he couldn't make himself look up

"What?"

"This is a big step… but he is far from out of the woods…"

"I realize that…" he forced himself to look at her then "did something happen…?"

"No…I was hopeful…but…" she started gently "he didn't attempt to breath on his own… not entirely unexpected given the condition of his lungs… and the sedation …but…"

"I see…"

"We will begin reducing the sedatives this afternoon… after that… we will monitor his responsiveness. Hopefully he will regain consciousness"

"He might not wake up?"

"It is always a possibility with oxygen deprivation"

Peter nodded… she patted his arm

"How long until we know?"

"That is up to him…" Dr. Cole regarded him a moment "It is tricky to know what to expect…given the nature of his situation… he was not… fortunately at any point totally without oxygen… however his level were dangerously low for nearly three hours… It would be too optimistic to believe he will come out of that entirely unscathed…" She watched the devastation those word shot through the man before her "On a positive note his heart is definitely stronger… his blood pressure is holding now. Hopefully he will be able to maintain it"

"Thank you" he studied his hands.

"Unfortunately there are concerns… his white blood cell count is higher than I'd like… indicating an infection… most likely from the broken leg…" she smiled tightly "I'm afraid we will have to make a difficult decision about it very soon."

"About his leg? You mean…?"

"It is badly crushed… the femur is splintered…numerous bone fragments embedded in the tissue… The muscles and nerves were without blood flow… I'm not sure we could save it even under better circumstances… right now he isn't up to fighting a significant infection."

"You're talking about… taking his leg"

"We aren't to that point yet… but yes, it is a very real possibility…"

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Henry Wilson came in easily once they had him cornered… in fact, Reynolds thought the man seemed almost relieved when he cuffed him. He looked jumpy… frightened…glancing over his shoulder watching the windows…

Sitting in the interrogation room he fidgeted… startling at every sound. Bitterly Reynolds remembered his thoughts about Caffrey in a similar room in France. He had translated his outward calm to coldness… clearly he had been mistaken… now he just wondered what had been going through the man's mind that day… now he could recall how Caffrey had been so careful not to look at the crime scene photos… how horrifying those must have been for him. Now that he knew that the man was capable of feeling for others…deeply…he could only imagine how hard he had worked to present that calm exterior. Now that he had read the rest of the psych profile he wondered how the man held it together through the accusations…and the interview later that day… at least now he understood why Caffrey hadn't even mentioned his own injuries... low self-esteem…he didn't even think the fact that he had 3 broken ribs…that he nearly bled out that night, was worth a passing mention…. **_"I fell asleep_**," he said.

Reynolds shook his head and pulled his mind back on task. He stepped into the room with the edgy kidnapper. The man looked up at him as the door closed.

"Is he still alive?"

"Who?' the man's look said it all

"Caffrey… Collins … whatever his name is… Is. He. Alive?'

"Yes. He's doing well." He lied … hoping to get something from this man. It worked, Wilson paled looking on the verge of collapse…

"You have to protect me." He whispered desperately… "He's going to kill me"

"Collins?" Reynolds voice held just enough confusion

"no!" he swallowed hard "Collins was supposed to die….the man who wants him to stop breathing…he assured me if Collins still has a heartbeat by tomorrow… then I won't"

"Does this man have a name?"

"Not another word until you promise you will protect me."

"You kidnapped my daughter and left her to die…! What makes you think I care if you make it through tomorrow or not!?"

"I can't give you his name…"

"You just said he's going to kill you anyway."

"There are different ways to die, Agent Reynolds…" the man licked his lips nervously "in case you can't or won't protect me I would prefer it to be quick."

"I see" Thomas sighed grimly "well then…" he waved him away "take him to holding"

"There are two people… they pass on his orders…" he gulped "I can give you their names…"

"That might be worth something…" Reynolds said quietly… "Let's hear them"

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Reynolds took a breath fighting a sense of déjà vu as he stepped into the hospital room… Burke looked up from the files in his lap… Thomas wondered when the man slept…he was obviously exhausted but still he worked…

"How is he?" just like last time it was a stupid question… even more so today…

"They upgraded him to a ventilator yesterday…" the man gave a brief bitter laugh at that absurdity of that statement… "The doctor is talking about cutting off his leg… is there a reason you are here?" the look was glacial.

"We picked up Henry Wilson last night" he glanced at the silent figure in the bed as if just saying the name could disturb the unresponsive young man. "He's willing to talk… to some degree … he wants protection in return."

"Give it to him." Reynolds looked at him in surprise "he's a weapon… we want the person handling it…"

"Ok… good because…" he drew a slow breath "we did… he mentioned two names Tomas Martinez, he has been suspected for 20 years of running large quantities of coke out of Honduras… we have never had enough to bring him in … and Morgan Flannery, she's made quite a name for herself… word is if you need firepower, anything you want, she can get her hands on it...no questions asked…she has a reputation for being one scary lady… they are both on the list of Kyle Nolen's clients. Wilson says they are both taking orders from someone else. I don't think we can touch them… not yet… we need more evidence than a kidnapper's word for it… I'm working on bringing in Nolen… if we can pin him down he might be able to connect the dots but we need a pretty good case to try it… he is slippery."

"Not surprising"

"No it's not" he considered what he was about to say next… and noticed Caffrey's drawing… the young woman with dark hair peeking out of the papers in Burke's lap. He pulled his mind back on track and pushed on… "I don't mean to pry… the other day…you said the system doesn't work for him… what did you mean?"

Burke studied him… quietly… for a long moment, brown eyes darkly following his curious green gaze

"When Emily's mother died… you said DCPD arrested her killer…"

"Yes" he wasn't sure he liked where this might be going… or what it had to do with his question.

"How long did that take…?"

"They picked him up a week later… of course it helped that I was a witness"

"How many people do you think were involved in the investigation?"

"I don't know…20…30"

"And the people around you… they were … supportive…?"

"I suppose…" Yes everyone had been kind… for what that was worth…he wasn't sure it made the loss any less devastating but they had been kind… he failed to see what this had to do with his inquiry…

"Your friends and family… maybe even your co-workers attended her funeral …?" Reynolds had enough.

"What does any of this have to do with my question?"

Burke looked at him, extracting the drawing, holding it up so Reynolds could see it clearly… "Her name was Kate…"

Reynolds suddenly wasn't sure he wanted to hear more…

"He loved her?" he gulped, sure he already knew the answer.

"He still does…obviously" he twitched the drawing "Part of him always will."

Thomas nodded… he understood that.

"And he saw…?"He didn't need to finish, Burke's dark look said it all…

"The day she died…I held him… it took everything… every ounce of strength I had …to keep him out of the flames…to keep him from killing himself trying to get to her" Burkes stopped there… his sad look growing harder suddenly "he was still staring into the fire…sobbing… trembling…in shock when NYPD slapped cuffs on him, and dragged him back to a maximum security prison …" his voice was soft, cynical "they kept him there for 2 months… there were no charges… they just didn't know what else to do with him…he didn't get to go to her funeral… no one asked if he was ok…how he was holding up… no one cared what happened to him or what he felt… he was left to grieve alone in a cell…when he wasn't dodging the men he helped me put there… courtesy of our **justice** system. When I finally managed to get them to release him to me again…no one was looking for her killer… no one except us." The brown eyes softened suddenly… "You know what gets me…" he shook his head in disbelief at his own next words "he didn't expect anything different… when they arrested him… he didn't even protest…"

"Why?" Reynolds asked

"Because it's what he's been programed to expect his whole life…"Peter stared straight into his face coldly "by people like you." His face fell further… an undefinable pain in his eyes

Reynolds flinched back from those words… and that look.

"Yes, like you Reynolds… you took one look at half a psych profile and decided you knew everything there was to know about him… wrote him off as some sort of monster"

"I was wrong, he didn't deserve that…but…you can't…I wouldn't…" but he stopped, recalling the fear in the young man's eyes when he pulled him up in fury, threatening violence against him for coloring with his daughter …the way the man didn't object didn't protest … remembering bloody lips begging his forgiveness… choking… drowning in the blood that filled his crushed lungs… begging for forgiveness because he couldn't protect Emily from a few minor injuries…a man who expected to be hurt… for something entirely outside his control… and accepted it…

"It's not the first time he got a raw deal…or the last." Burke's voice dropped, the anger was cold… tight, he almost missed the rest "our justice system has let him down at every turn since he was 3 years old…" the other agent's voice cracked "h*** I've even let him down… more than once" Thomas didn't know what to say to that… he thought of a frightened teenager running for his life…afraid to talk to the police, a young man grieving alone in a cell, of a small boy he couldn't picture pushed aside by the world… He swallowed the guilt that threatened to overwhelm him…

"Not this time…" It was a promise. It might not mean much coming from him, but Thomas Reynolds meant it from the depths of his soul.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Thomas sat in his office… he'd pretty much lived here the last few days… briefed on Caffrey's warning about Wilson's orders to teach Reynolds a lesson, his superior had insisted that neither he nor Emily leave the building unescorted… While he understood the concern it made working his case difficult. Emily knelt in the second chair… her eyes focused on the paper under her little hands… he tried to focus on the file in his but his daughter's humming was a bit distracting…

"Having fun?"

"I like to draw" she smiled brightly at him

"What are you drawing?" she jumped down bringing her picture with her, eager to show him… the picture showed a small stick figure wrapped in the big circling arms of a larger figure… the back ground was all dark scribbles…

"This is me" the little girl said pointing to the tiny person in her drawing… "And this is Nick…" she pointed to the protecting arms…

"That's Mr. Collins?"

"Uh-huh… Nick… you said he wasn't bad?"

"He isn't… but you should be respectful"

"He's nice."

"Yes he was." He flinched…past tense wasn't quite right but…the man's life still hung by such a thin strand…

"He's my friend. He singed hush baby don't cry…"

"Did he?" Thomas shook his head… he sang the song to his baby the first time he held her, so tiny and fragile in the NICU… it had been her favorite lullaby ever since.

"Can I go see him… you said maybe?" Thomas silently cursed her steel trap memory

"No baby you can't … not yet." he whispered thinking the still figure in that bed…seeing that would terrify her

"Emily remember I told you he got hurt…" a nod, her eyes big. She remembered he said her friend might go away like the mommy she never knew

"You said he is sleeping so he can get AAAAALL better."

"He's still sleeping…" her little face crinkled in confusion… her three year old mind could not imagine anyone wanting to sleep so long. "You can see him if…when he wakes up, ok sweetie?

"Ok... "She climbed into to her daddy's lap "I want to give him my picture. He likes to draw too"

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Dr. Lindsey Cole braced herself as she stepped into the room…She hated bringing bad news…and hard decisions to her patients and their family members. Nicholas Collins' increased white cell counts had reached critical levels during the night and this morning he was running a fever despite strong antibiotics. The leg was seriously infected. Now it came down to a decision between a simple amputation which he might survive… and a complicated 10 to 12 hour surgery to try to rebuild the thigh…Nick Collins was far too weak for that procedure.

She sighed as his "brother" looked up at her. She had been around long enough to know the man had lied to her… she didn't argue with him though… his concern was real and she didn't see anyone else stepping up take care of the young man, after all.

"What's wrong?" he cut to the chase.

"His leg…" she met his eyes sympathetically… "We have to make a decision in the next few hours… the amputation, as serious as it is… is the best option … will be the easiest on him."

"There is another option?" he sounded hopeful

"Not one that I would recommend…" she sighed again at the look in his eyes "it is a much more complicated surgery… a minimum of 10 hours to set the bone, clean out the dead tissue and repair what we can of the muscle…he's not up to it… the risk is too high." She continued quietly "and there is a good chance the leg will never bear his weight again even if we could save it… between this break and the damage to his hip… the decision is up to you but if it were my brother…I'd let us take the leg-"

She stopped when her patient began to moan… choking on the vent tube and twisting his head frantically side to side… the fingers of his splinted left arm clutching at the blanket desperately… Dr. Cole moved quickly to increase his sedation…she didn't believe he was aware of his surroundings on any conscious level but his agitation could cause him to hurt himself… Suddenly she was looking into the bluest eyes she had ever seen… of course, the color was not unexpected, she had opened them several times herself the last few days…had seen them in the trauma room the first day… but they had been vacant… lifeless before… now filled with terror, they struggled to focus on her… before she could sooth him the man standing beside her stretched out his hand to stoke the damp brown hair.

"Shhh… it's ok … its ok" his voice was rough "you're safe… relax…" to her surprise the young man responded to the voice, his eyes locking on the other man… the thrashing stopped… his lips moving now instead… desperately…as if trying to speak… he couldn't be… His friend didn't seem to understand that, bending forward as if he could comprehend what Nick was trying to tell him… "What's wrong? Are you hurting?" he spoke softly taking the twitching hand in his own. The dark head twisted side to side, fear and pleading in those eyes… as if beseeching someone to understand what he needed. Suddenly the other man looked in surprise at the hand he held… concentrating on it intently. His eyes widened… mouth partially opened.

"I hear you buddy… I got the message" he said out of the blue as he brushed the hair away from blue eyes and smiled encouragingly "it's ok… just rest. I hear you"

Dr. Cole helped that along with an adjustment in his sedatives and pain meds. After he relaxed… eyes slipping closed, locked on the brown ones above him until the last moment, she considered Peter quietly.

"You handled that very well… "She smiled at him, thanking him for soothing the patient "I'll give you a little time to think about what we discussed…"

"I don't need it..." his voice was firm, unwavering "try to save his leg."

"He doesn't have the strength-"

"He doesn't want you to take it…"

"How, may I ask, do you suddenly know that?"

"He told me." He carefully lay the splinted hand against the younger man's stomach… gazing in wonder at the still fingers… she nodded in disbelief... moving to make the arrangements unhappily …she was certain her patient would be dead by the end of the day… As she left she thought she heard the man say "Morse code, really? Only you…only you."


	17. Chapter 17

Morgan Flannery was every bit as intimidating as her reputation suggested, Reynolds decided, in a quiet, pleasant, terrifying way. Her voice carried a hint of an Irish accent… passed to her from her father. Her long red, gold hair sprinkled with platinum, swept back in a loose braid and the small lines on her face paired with her thin agile body gave her the appearance of a youthful grandmother… her eyes though… Reynolds had to suppress a shiver when he met those eyes, sparkling cold and hard as emeralds beneath long red lashes.

She smiled calmly at him as he stepped into her home…as if she knew with certainty that he was no threat to her. That he was powerless to bring her down. He refused to admit that her apparently civil smile frightened him. He glanced at Burke and wondered if she intimidated him at all… if she did it didn't show in his impassive face. The only expression Reynolds could detect was just a hint of the man's anger lingering in those steady brown eyes as he glance around the room.

Her study was lavishly decorated with rare objects… Gaelic in origins mostly. The woman was clearly proud of her heritage. She waved them to chairs, her smile never wavering

"I'm not sure what assistance I can be to the FBI, but I am more than willing to help if I can."

"What exactly is your relationship with Henry Wilson?"

"Oh…" her smile widened almost playfully "Henry was a friend once… but we had falling out… several years ago. He really has quite a temper… I honestly couldn't tell you what he's been up to lately."

"Really?" Reynolds eyed her sharply "because he said you were involved in some of his recent activities"

"I haven't even seen him in 6 or 7 months… nor do I expect to see him again…" her voice didn't change pitch at all. The conversation was going nowhere.

"What about Tomas Martinez….another old friend?"

"Never met him actually." She leaned back in her chair "He has quite the unsavory reputation… are you insinuating that a lady such as myself would associate such a man.?" She raised an eyebrow archly

"Not at all" Burke returned her cold smile "what can you tell us about him?"

Ten minutes later they left her home with little more information than they had before… Frustration oozed from Burke… he looked at Reynolds

"Now that woman… she **is** dangerous"

"And we have nothing on her… except a hired killer's word that she's in on this." he sighed scrubbing his face "and she knows it."

"We're going to get her." The steel in his voice was sharp edged.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Peter was tired…beyond tired… bone crushingly, mind numbingly exhausted. A week of spending his days working the case with Reynolds and his nights dozing in a chair in this room was wearing him down. He couldn't keep this up much longer… he knew that, something had to give… soon. He walked quietly to the window… 3 days since Dr. Cole looked at him wearily, coming out of the operating room, 14 long hours after they took Neal away … his cheeks flushed with fever against grey white skin… lips blue even with the machine breathing for him… the matronly doctor had made no secret of her opinion that, Peter had sentenced his friend to death with his decision… "This is too much" she argued… " he's hanging by a thread as it is… and you are asking me to put him through 10 hours of surgery that might not even take care of the infection" Peter held his breath as she approached…

"He's out of surgery" there was a hint of disbelief in her tone. "He made it through…barely… he is a heck of a fighter, I'll give him that. I don't know if we did him any favors saving that leg… it's a mess… one of the worst breaks Dr. Humphrey has ever tried to repair … if he makes it, he's looking at 3 or 4 more surgeries to even hope to ever walk on it… and that's not even touching the hip… it may still be better to take it…"

Three days since they brought him back to this room with cold metal rods running down each side of his leg from hip to ankle, bolted into the bone. The long, ugly incision between them stapled closed under rubberized pressure bandages… The leg was noticeably thinner now and Peter wondered if there was any muscle left in the younger man's thigh… He was allowed to watch quietly, out of the way, as the nurses and orderlies positioned Neal carefully, elevating the leg… placing a pillow under his splinted arm… arranging catheters, drainage tubes and all 4 IV lines appropriately…They reconnected the ventilator to the machine, removing the manual bag, adjusting the settings, smoothing the tape on his face that held the tubing in place. They filed away without a word to Peter…

Neal hadn't stirred through the whole process…nor in the 3 long days since, not a twitch… not a sound… not an eye lid flutter that his friend had noticed. He was in there, the older man knew it. He had been awake before the surgery, the doctor wasn't sure she believed that, but Peter knew… he could still feel the desperate tapping of Neal's fingers against the back of his hand.

"N-O… P-L-E-A-S-E…L-E-G" his barely focused blue eyes pleading for someone to hear him… to understand. Peter understood and passed the message on…even though he wasn't sure how much of the situation the semi-conscious man understood… now he wasn't sure he made the right choice. It seemed Dr. Cole was right. The kid hadn't been up to the long complex operation after all… what if he never woke up again because of that decision. He would have been devastated to wake up and find out they took his leg but… wouldn't that have been better than…

That was a pointless train of thought and he knew it… what was done was done. There was no going back. Peter wished Elle was here…how he wished she was here… it would be so much easier … but she was safer where she was… he reminded himself, that's why he hadn't told her the real extent of their friend's wounds... he couldn't keep the worry out of his voice when he called and lying to his wife wasn't something he did… so he told her Neal was hurt, but he didn't tell her how bad it was…h*** he couldn't even process the devastating list of injuries… if he had told her even half of it she would have been here within hours… and she couldn't be here in the middle of this… whatever this was.

He sank back in the chair… quietly taking his friend's right hand, studying the icy fingers…thinking of the times he had seen them working dexterously… on a painting, a lock, a computer, flipping that stupid hat…he had to believe he would see them work again… dropping his head against the back of the chair he sighed hopelessly… he had to believe it, but he didn't… He closed his eyes… out of energy… he was tired… just so very tired…he drifted off to sleep.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

In the dark he couldn't move … but he had to find her! Had to keep her safe! He feverishly tried to search but his body wouldn't respond! Wouldn't move! He felt his arms around his chest … but they just lay there, folded oddly…the cold seeping into his skin…His eyes were open but he couldn't see… Neal screamed her name but there was no sound...! His voice made no sound in the dark! He couldn't scream because he couldn't breathe. Hysterically he struggled to force air into motionless lungs… he had to call her, had to find her! He was supposed to protect her… he promised… he promised he would keep her safe! She was in his arms and now she was gone! He wanted to sob… he wanted to get up to search for her… but his body lay there in the cold and the dark and wouldn't move … wouldn't breathe… wouldn't live! Dead!

"I can't be dead…!"He thought. "I have to find her…please I can die after she's safe… "Please, Please, Please… just breath!" he begged his empty lungs… he pleaded with his heart to beat… with his eyes to see…with his body to move… just this one last time! Nothing happened. "Please!" he pleaded with the heavens… "Just let me have one more minute!" The darkness didn't lighten… his chest remained stubbornly silent, lungs still, heart frozen… his arms limp… useless… his legs unmoving … unresponsive… "I have to save her…I promised" his thoughts were fading now… drifting away from that forgotten shattered thing lying alone in the shadows … and the little girl that needed him… the pain was far away now… lingering in the last traces of his mind…Dead…

The dream faded… the darkness lingered … Neal accepted the reprieve… the calm that came with this peaceful place… he could stay here forever in this quiet darkness… no, not quiet, the realization came gradually… not unpleasantly… sounds filtered through the haze… sounds that sparked his curiosity… a soft whooshing… a mechanical click…a faint buzzing… there was pain here too… a dull ache that permeated his whole body… he tried to shift to a more comfortable position…that's when he realized… he really couldn't move… just like the nightmare his limbs remained immobile… drooping listlessly from slack joints… maybe he really was dead…He needed to see…

He was surprised actually, pleasantly, at how easily his eyes opened… though the view was uninspiring… an ordinary ceiling … which meant he was flat on his back… something caught the edge of his vision…but it was too close to focus on. He allowed his head to fall to the side… that something he couldn't quite see kept his weak neck from dropping his cheek all the way to the pillow… strange… that same something filled his mouth… his throat… holding his breath hostage… that thought should have been frightening, he thought, but he felt disconnected… like a ghost in his own lifeless body.

His eyes focused on something of interest… a figure sleeping in a chair… a man… he knew that man… knew when those eyes opened they would be brown… the expression in them would be worried and frustrated... knew with certainty how the frown would look. This man was his friend… his best friend… almost a father. He trusted this figure… with his life… but he didn't recall a name associated with this man he blinked, wondering vaguely how it was possible not to remember your best friend's name… wondering even more why it didn't disturb him like he thought it should…something's wrong with me…broken…or… drugs… that thought was bizarrely comforting… "Since when is being drugged comforting?" a voice in his head asked… the same voice that wondered why he wasn't worried about his breath coming and going without his control or consent… about the something that filled his throat…about the pain that hovered just beyond his focus…

He tried to speak… but that something in his mouth reminded him that it was there… only allowing a small muffled sound to escape… he frowned…tried to turn his head to see what that something was… turning his head back up was harder though… he didn't seem to have the energy… the pain was more noticeable now… it seemed to nibble at his strength… suddenly the thought of closing his eyes and drifting away again didn't sound so bad… it would have been nice to talk to his friend …

A faint noise caught his ear… a click… the hint of a squeak… he struggled once again to turn his head… succeeding only in moving his eyes … the ceiling again…

A small woman he didn't know moved into his vision… dark hair in a ponytail… dark, slightly exotic eyes… smooth tan skin… a few tiny freckles across her nose… he would have given her his best smile… if he wasn't dead…she started slightly when she looked into his eyes… he watched intrigued as she collected herself. Smoothing her rumpled features into a kind smile

"Good morning Mr. Collins." She spoke softly as if she might frighten him "how are you feeling?" She took his hand in hers… "Can you squeeze my fingers, Mr. Collins…" of course he couldn't, Neal thought… "I'm dead" he tried to tell her…the dream flickered through his mind …that broken lifeless body in the dark… but…she was kind and she seemed to want him to try…so he tried. His fingers moved… just slightly around something hard in his palm…not dead then… the lady seemed very pleased…her name tag said Madison "Good job Mr. Collins… Nick… do you mind if I call you Nick? Very good." She gently grasped his jaw… turning his face upward again… the ceiling…"I'm going to shine a light in your eyes…just relax…" the light was bright… painful…" she stroked his hair when he squeezed the lids shut… "Easy… I know that's not pleasant… I just need a better look at those beautiful eyes." She patted his shoulder very softly… something tightened on his arm with a hum…her hand held his head steady as she swiped something across his brow… never breaking eye contact she smoothed his hair while she pressed something cold to his ribs…listened…moving the chilled circle again …again… nodded… another smile…"You are doing very well, Nick, almost done" she sounded like she was talking to a child…

"Would you like me to wake your friend Peter?" He did want that… he was startled to realize that he wanted that very much. Did he nod? He wasn't sure… The lady… nurse… Madison released his face and stepped away… his head sagged to the side again…the other side this time…he smiled a little… he wanted to look this way before…well, that explained the sounds that he heard … he watched the plastic accordion slide up and down in its clear cylinder… then flicked his eyes to the tubing that writhed away from the thing… toward his body… his face… that thing in his mouth… something shifted…more of the room slid into view… he wasn't quite lying down anymore…Neal saw a window…another chair…tubes in his arm…wires… sunlight frolicking on the floor… he stared at that… beautiful…his heavy head lolling down against his shoulder…light and shadow chased each other across cold tile…fascinating… hypnotizing him… pulling him away… drugs… definitely drugs, he decided… or I'm dying…dying… that was an interesting possibility too… he was tired.

He heard Madison's voice talking to his friend… she said the man's name was Peter… that sounded right somehow… it fit the man… The man's voice …he must have nodded. …

"NEAL!" the voice was desperate… disbelieving… he stepped into Neal's line of vision …strong fingers grasping his hand… supporting his sinking shoulders… lifting his head… he focused on worried brown eyes, it was exactly the look he imagined. He smiled around the tube in his mouth… his friend's hands coaxed him to stay… touching his hair, his face… brushing across his own wet cheeks… tears? His friend didn't cry… didn't like crying… couldn't handle crying…"Don't cry…" Neal thought… he wanted to say it… but that thing… "A ventilator" that annoying voice in his head finally supplied… wouldn't let him…probably am dying… a phone… if he had a phone he could tell him it was ok… he focused on making his fingers move again… again… P-H-O-N-E…his lips formed the word soundlessly… his friend, Peter, he reminded himself, would understand… he always understood… but he looked confused. He frowned…staring at the moving hand… then at Neal's face…finally he held his phone in front of Neal questioningly… "Nod" he commanded his head…Peter carefully placed the device in his left hand… it was awkward… something hard kept the fingers away from his thumb… A cast…? No… that wasn't quite right… It was hard to see the screen… the angle was awkward…his elbow wouldn't bend. He fumbled to turn the screen to his friend…he almost dropped it…callused hands took it from clumsy fingers… Peter laughed… "That's better" …his eyes closed without permission… but he didn't mind… he was drifting in that peaceful darkness again…he could rest here and he was so very tired…

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

There was a hand on his arm… he jumped awake. "Peter?" the young nurse smiled at him…

"What's wrong?" fear edged his voice.

"Nothing… I have some good news for you."

"Good news?" his sleep fogged mind struggled with that concept… nurses didn't give him good news…

"He's waking up…" Peter started out of his chair in less than a heartbeat… Madison grasped his arm

"Just a moment…" he looked at her "you need to understand he's still very weak…and he can't communicate much…I'm not sure how much he comprehends…he is responsive but don't expect too much just yet" Peter thought he nodded, as he pulled away from her and stepped to the bed, taking his friend's right hand… it remained limp… nerve damage, he reminded himself... that's all it is…but Neal didn't look at him… his eyes were open… peering blankly at the floor on the other side of the bed, he made no effort to look at Peter. He slumped loosely in the bed, his head drooping lethargically against his shoulder. Fear gripped his heart…Dr. Cole was concerned about brain damage… he wanted to shake his friend … scream at him to snap out of this…

"NEAL!" he pleaded softly…urgently. With a glance at Madison for permission, he carefully straightened the sagging shoulders against the pillow… lifted the younger man's head… turning those blue eyes toward himself… a spark ignited in that nearly vacant stare…recognition? "Please let him know me…" A blink… another… the gaze focused…Neal smiled…a tiny… fragile smile, awkward around the vent…but the relief was incredible... he brushed tears from his cheeks shamelessly… he couldn't seem to stop them. His friend knew him…he was crying …

Neal's fingers moved on the blanket, his lips trying to form the word as well... It took a moment for Peter to catch the message. Phone… Phone? He pulled his out and held it in front of the younger man's eyes… a miniscule nod. He placed the device in Neal's left hand… positioning it cautiously. Peter watched the clumsy fingers carefully type… the phone nearly slid from his grasp when he tried to give it back… He took the phone gently…

**Cowboy up, Butch**

Peter laughed out loud. Neal was still in there… and he was sleeping again, his face relaxed and peaceful, a smile twitching on his lips.


	18. Chapter 18

Peter glared at the Flannery files… she was suspected of smuggling rifles, handguns, even explosives…for the last twenty five years… but if her financial history could be trusted, her business didn't really take off until 15 years ago…about two months before the murders, the deposits into her known accounts had shot up dramatically…and yet there was never enough to get a warrant against her… someone was covering her tracks… someone inside law enforcement with enough pull to make whole organizations look the other way… FBI, DEA, NSA even Interpol seemed to turn a blind eye to her activities despite suspicions that she sold some of her wares to terrorists.

A small sound brought his gaze up… he smiled gently…

"Hey Neal…" Peter spoke softly… he didn't want to frighten him. "You awake?" a tiny nod before the blue eyes tugged open, blinking wearily. "You want your phone?" another nod. Peter smiled again as he lay the device in his friend's hand… watching him fumble to use it… between the cast, the ventilator tubing and Neal's weak clumsy grasp… it was a challenge not to reach out and help him steady it. After a moment Peter's phone buzzed quietly…technically he wasn't supposed to use it here in the ICU but…it was worth the risk of getting in trouble for these brief conversations…

**"****You look worried…"** the text was filled with unasked questions… questions Peter didn't want to try to answer.

"You've looked better yourself" with a slightly forced affectionate grin...he carefully rested his hand on his friend's arm

**"****I can imagine" **his eyes crinkled with dismay…** "Don't even want to know…do I"**

"No you probably don't"

** "****You look tired too"** looking up from the text he read concern in his friend's pain filled eyes

"I'm fine Neal"

**"****Should get a hotel"**

** "**What makes you think I don't have one?" the look Neal shot him said he didn't have any doubts.

**"****Don't make yourself sick… Elizabeth would never forgive me"**

"If it will help you not worry, I will get a room.**"**

**"****Good… and sleep in it." **he felt the hesitation before Neal typed the next message

"What's wrong?" he moved his hand to lie softly on disheveled brown hair, smoothing it down… "Do you need me to call someone? Neal shook his head…

**"****Peter…"** for a moment the soft sounds of the respirator seemed disturbingly loud in the room **"I wasn't alone…in the building"**

"I know"

**"****Did you find her… is Emily ok?" ** Even on the glowing screen the fear that resonated in those word came through.

"Yes Neal we found her… she is fine…"

**"****You're sure?"**

"Just a few scrapes and bruises…she's at the office with her dad…they're protecting her." Peter's smiled softened at the raw relief in his friend's eyes "she's alright… and you will be too" his voice caught slightly, he desperately hoped he was telling Neal the truth… the doctor said his chances improved dramatically now that he was awake… but…

**"****Good" **Neal smiled** "that's good" **He was asleep almost before he hit send…

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

"We found Ryan Mathews." The young agent's face was too serious for good news

"That's good." Reynolds looked up from Emily and her toys.

He thought about the man… one of the three faces Caffrey gave them at the beginning of this mess…they connected the face to a name almost immediately but tracking the man down had proved difficult. The other two…Kevin Garland, the man Caffrey had positively identified and Lance Chambers, associate of Henry Wilson were already in custody… and not talking.

"DCPD fished him out of the Washington Channel this morning."

"D***!" he sighed, and looked at the kid… "Are we sure it's him"

Robert handed him the file… he flipped past the papers to the photos… "Sure looks like him"

"Yeah it does" he stood up… he needed to talk to the detective in charge of the homicide… he grabbed his phone.

"Detective McGowan" the woman's voice came through clipped and hurried

"Agent Reynolds, FBI…I understand you have a case… Ryan Mathews…"

"Yes, that is a run of the mill homicide… what exactly is the FBI's interest?"

"He was a suspect in one of our cases…" he heard the anger in her sigh

"Is this going to be a jurisdiction-?"

"No Ma'am." He kept his voice conciliatory "I have no intention of interfering with your case…I was wondering if you could tell me how he died?"

"GSW…single shot…" she sounded slightly baffled "We don't get many sniper shots"

"Sniper…?" Reynolds kept the tension out of his voice as much as he could "what kind of round?"

"FMJ… from a 223/5.56… does that mean anything to you agent Reynolds…?"

"Head shot?"

"Chest… back to front…" she hesitated "severed the pulmonary artery… guy fell in the channel but he didn't have time to drown before he bled out." the soft intake of breath didn't go unnoticed "so this does mean something to you?"

"It does, this isn't your sniper's first victim, but… unfortunately we don't have any leads on the sniper either…"

"Not his first victim…I haven't heard about any other…"

"The last one was… not in DC"

"Oh" she waited a moment for him to continue "I'll need details so I can…"

"I'm sorry I can't do that…"he debated with himself quickly "the victim survived… it's a complicated situation, for his safety I have to be discreet."

"When you can give me details…"

"I certainly will."

"Thank you…"she sounded surprised "for you cooperation."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

"Hello Peter" Dr. Cole greeted her patient's friend … the man seemed to be an almost constant fixture in the room

"Dr. Cole" his smile was tight "how are you?"

"I'm well" she returned his smile noticing the way his eyes darted to the sleeping form in the bed.

"You took an MRI yesterday…?" worry flickered in his dark eyes "Is something wrong? Is Ne-Nick alright?" she couldn't help the slight smirk…Alright…? He was far from alright and they both knew it but…

"He's doing as well as can be expected… his condition is still very serious…but he is improving… you must remember he is looking at a very long road… and right now it is all up hill... I can't make any guarantees…"

"I know that." a trace of impatience seeped into his voice "but…is there something new I should be concerned about…"

"No" she shook her head "but he has been more or less flat on his back for almost 2 weeks… and with the surgeries…we have to watch out for DVTs… and we need to determine if there is any hidden damage from the prolonged oxygen deprivation." the man nodded wearily Dr. Cole glanced at her patient as his eyes pulled open "and even though he is awake…while he is intubated he has no means of communicating… not effectively…he can't tell us if something feels different…wrong…" her phone buzzed… she studiously ignored it keeping her attention on the man before her…

"He might surprise you…" Peter looked at his phone as it buzzed too. He raised his eyes to hers with a smirk he couldn't hide "check your phone Dr. Cole"

"What?"

"Just check your phone" his smile was peculiar. She sighed and glanced at the screen **"good morning Doctor"** her eyes darted to Peter then to her young patient… his casted left hand raised slightly grasping a phone clumsily … he grinned awkwardly around the ventilator tube…his weary blue eyes bore a spark of mischief…

"Hello Nick…" she watched him curiously "how are you feeling this morning?"

**"****Sure you want me to answer that?" **the text flashed on her screen after just a few seconds. She looked at Peter again in disbelief

"Is he really texting me?" Peter just shrugged at her the smirk fading into a highly amused grin "he's still sedated… and…"**_and barely alive _**she thought

**"****Right here…"** the message managed to project sarcasm. **"I can hear you…"**

"Right. I'm sorry" she smiled sheepishly "I'm not sure…" she floundered to a stop.

** "****It's ok… just don't like to be ignored by beautiful women" **Dr. Cole blushed slightly, chuckling nervously.

"Don't tell me he's flirting…" Peter shook his head "you're flirting, aren't you?" the younger man looked slightly rebuked but his eyes sparkled brightly. Dr. Cole drew a deep breath to regain her professional demeanor.

"How are you doing Nick?"

**"****You tell me?"**

"You're in the hospital… you were injured-."

**"****Know that part"** his eyes met hers with surprising intensity, despite the medication and pain **"how bad…? Can't move my legs…"**

"Your legs were injured… they are both immobilized" she smiled at him softly, grateful to alleviate some of the fear in his face "your spine is fine…" his eyes sparkled with relieved tears. His head dropped back against the pillow…eyelids drooping slightly… "Why don't you get some rest?" she patted his shoulder gently. The young man nodded.

**"****How long until this thing comes out of my throat…? Hurts" **her phone buzzed on last time

"Not for a while I'm afraid…" she hesitated uncertain how much she should tell the fragile young man "your lungs were injured… they need time to heal." He managed a small nod before he drifted back off to sleep. "He was texting me… has he been texting you?"

"Since he woke up."

"And that doesn't surprise you?"

"The kid's a genius… and never shuts up…" he smiled "so no it doesn't surprise me he found a way to communicate."

"How did he even get my number?"

"Honestly?" Peter shrugged "I have no idea… but he just wants to be able to talk to you…he didn't mean any harm." He tried to reassure her.

"Ok…" she studied Peter "this is good…just keep the conversations light…try to keep him quiet… relaxed… make sure there is absolutely no stress… with all the trauma, his system simply cannot take it."


	19. Chapter 19

Peter ran his fingers through his hair… he missed his home… his wife, his little boy… but he couldn't risk bringing them into this... Not while they suspected Flannery and Martinez might be connected to someone with serious connections in law enforcement… Even with them in New York he worried…

He stepped out of the elevator… following the familiar hallway to the small hospital room…with two stiffly alert guards … Visiting Neal for a few hours in the evening before going back to his hotel room had become a ritual… he sighed as he thought of his friend… 2 weeks since he woke up and 5 more surgeries and he was still in the ICU…Dr. Cole said she was impressed by his progress but the kid still couldn't breathe without support…his lungs were healing well but… the damage was extensive, she reminded him daily, he might never have more that 50% lung function… that even now he was not entirely out of danger… for all his progress, it would only take one thing… one complication… one moment of too much stress… he tried to physically shake the thought away.

He wished he could tell Elle how badly Neal was hurt… she didn't understand why he couldn't come home yet… she didn't understand the fear he couldn't suppress that if he left… missed even one visit…even after so much time… the young man would slip away… he wanted to confide in her… share this worry that gnawed at him…but he knew if he did, there would be no stopping her from coming… so he kept the truth from his wife … because keeping her safe was the most important thing…

When Peter stepped inside, it was quiet except for the normal soft sounds of the room. Briefly he wondered when the whooshing of a respirator had become normal, before he sat down to wait. At least they took the d*** tube out of Neal's throat a couple of days ago… a strange looking device covered his nose… still actively assisting his lungs…still pushing air into and out of his chest…but allowing him to talk… when he was awake… and had the energy… it was frightening how much a simple conversation seemed to take out of him…

Right now he slept, curled on his right side, left leg propped up carefully… the least painful position for him to lie. He still slept through most of Peter's visits… after various exhausting therapies …physical therapy for his right arm and leg to minimize muscular degeneration, his left side was still effectively immobilized by plastic and titanium… respiratory therapy, and, to Peter's amusement… psychological therapy. The first two were progressing as well as anyone expected… the third…well… given the need for discretion in an open investigation and Neal's own natural evasiveness…the therapist, after hearing he was inside a building when it was demolished and refused to discuss why… followed by a very drugged Caffrey informing him that he destroyed everyone around him… seemed to think he was suicidal and recommended restraints and anti-depressants. Neal had managed an offended smile at that…and refused, before changing the subject to the therapist's own past… the man left in defeat after just a few minutes that day. A new therapist was assigned to him the next day

A small tap on the door… Reynold moved inside guardedly … his look of trepidation every time he had to be near this room made Peter wonder for the thousandth time… What exactly happened in that collapsed basement? The younger agent had exuded guilt at disturbing levels in the three weeks since the incident…It was almost enough for Peter to feel for the man… almost. The agents on the protection detail had obviously heard what caused his change of heart… they had been nothing but competent, respectful and ashamed since that day.

"I thought you might want to know…" green eyes darting to the bed and back to Peter…restless eyes filled with horror and guilt…a convulsive swallow "Flannery and Martinez had dinner at the same restaurant at the same time tonight.'

"They had dinner together?"

"Not together, no… opposite sides of the place … it's nowhere near enough for any kind of warrant but…"

"It's something."

"Yeah"

"Peter?" they both started at the third voice, little more than a breathy whisper, turning to face him…

"Hey Neal" Peter's voice dropped slightly… becoming gentle…soothing…** "Keep him quiet…absolutely no stress" **echoing in his mind

"Hey… Peter…" He smiled... his broken mask still didn't even begin to cover the pain in his face. Blue eyes flitted to the other man nervously… "Reynolds…?" a panicky edge touched his voice "Emily? Is she ok?"

"She's fine… she's safe…" Neal's grin brightened dramatically, Thomas continued "I never did… I don't…I don't know how to…" he stammered uncomfortably. He pulled out a folded piece of paper… nervously opening it to reveal a child's drawing… a tiny stick person surrounded by the arms of a bigger one "she wanted me to give you this… a while ago actually but…it's you and her… I'm sorry, it's a little rumpled…" he finished apologetically

"Thank you…" the young man smiled brightly,as Reynolds placed the drawing in his left hand…though his eyes remained serious. "I'm glad she …is ok…" the silence was awkward. Neal broke it… "Peter… what… were those… names…?"

"The names?" he had been careful not to talk about the investigation with the younger man…trying not to upset him, remembering Dr. Cole's strict orders **"keep him quiet… absolutely no stress… his system simply cannot take it."**

"The suspects…Peter…I'm broken… not stupid. Flannery …and Martinez…right?" Neal might not be able to get more than a couple words out between gasps but the smirk was the same old Caffrey. Peter nodded...smiling slightly…

"Morgan Flannery and Tomas Martinez… why?"

"I know …those names…"

"Not old partners I hope…"

"Not my … kind of… criminal…" he smiled "you know… how I … feel about… guns…"

"I do."

"Drugs… not high … on my…list …either"

"Yet you know exactly what they deal in…" Neal shot him an innocent look…

"Helps to …know… who …to avoid."

"Or who might deserve ripping off.'

"Flannery …does have …some nice …Gaelic ant… antiquities"

"Please tell me none of them came from you?" he shook his head

"Thought… about it…" Neal's eyes sparkled "but…no"

"Good." Peter watched his eyes close a moment…his weakness evident… "You should rest… we'll take this conversation outside."

"I think… I can help…"

"Neal, you can't sit up… whatever you're thinking…it's not happening." That earned him a reproachful look.

"There's… something…" he hesitated… breathing heavily… "I have…something… a contract…"

"Another one?" Peter's lips twitched... Neal just rolled his eyes.

"Signed by…Morgan…Flannery… Tomas… Mar…tinez… and…"Neal grinned weakly "Clarence…Walker…" Peter's heart froze…a glance at Reynolds said he knew that name too…

"Clarence Walker?" his voice cracked. "East coast regional director of the NSA, Clarence Walker?" his friend nodded…Reynold gulped audibly.

" Recently retired…"Neal amended

"D*** it Neal." He stumbled over the horrified words that tried to tumble out all at once. "You knew that and… d*** it Neal!" the younger man opened his mouth to answer then wisely decided to keep quiet for once. "Why didn't you tell us…?"

"Wasn't… sure… it was… connected." He panted "until… you mentioned…the others...I hoped… it wasn't…"

"You have this contract? How?" Reynold broke in…

"Was in… Nolen's… safe…" Neal didn't meet the agent's stare.

"You stole it…? Those boys died because…"

"NO!" the pure agony in those blue eyes stopped Thomas more surely than the word ever could. "Were going…going to …kill us… anyway…"his breath whistled sharply in and out "thought… if…I had… something…on his…letter head… when…we were…found…"his face paled and his lips trembled with the memory…** Keep him quiet… no stress… **

"Ok Neal, shhh…you can tell us later, you need to-."

"You took it after…"disbelief stole the color from Reynolds' face as he interrupted. "After they beat you…?" the dark head bobbed slightly. It was quiet for a long moment… The horror of that image seeping into Reynolds mind…a teenager, badly injured, three broken ribs… painfully aware that he was going to die…that his friends were going to die… hoping that when his body… his** body** was found, the stolen papers in his pocket would guide the investigators to his killers… the absolute despair that drove that action…

"You wanted justice…" he stared at the top of the young man's head "why didn't you report it…? I get that you were scared at first but… anonymous tip…something?" Humiliation tinted the glowing eyes…but he didn't answer.

"Thomas…" Peter's voice became a bit sharp before dropping to a near whisper "don't pressure him…" Reynolds looked at Neal, and drew in a harsh breath, nodding in understanding. The pained silence broken only by Neal's shallow raspy breathing

"Need to …contact… Moz…" Neal directed finally, his eyes turning to Peter.

"I'm sorry, I can't" he sighed "he disappeared the day after I found the locker… he left the lady… I assumed he went looking for you…"

"Got… a …way…" his eyes were bright despite his obvious exhaustion "for… em…er…gen…cies…" he gasped for a moment

"Through your nose Neal" he dropped his head back against the pillow… breathing raggedly through the device on his nose… "That's it…Let it help you"

"En…crypt…ed …email…" he looked at his friend knowingly

"No pigeons?" he grinned, teasing he was rewarded with a responding smile

"Pigeons…only… work… if he's… in the …right…place"

"Of course"

"Worked…it out… after…Liz...beth…" he swallowed hard at the memory "always … have a … way to… con…tact… in…case" Peter nodded "send… burner… number… he'll call…"

"Tell him…you… need 127… brown… envelope…" Neal's left hand opened… "Phone…" he wearily typed the address into the phone… before his eyes closed… apparently asleep already.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Neal didn't listen to their nervously whispered conversation. He lay still, willing his body to give in to sleep…pleading for oblivion to shut out his swirling thoughts…but for the first time since he found himself here, he couldn't drift off…because cold despair seeped into his aching bones… he told Peter to contact Mozzie… as naturally as breathing, but as soon as the words left his mouth, a sickening realization hit him like a physical blow… he couldn't picture his friend… he could hear Mozzie's voice… remember the way he moved… playing find the lady in the park… but he could not see the little man's face… at all.

He heard Reynolds leaving… felt Peter lay his hand gently on his head for a moment… he felt the worry that radiated though that soft touch. He considered opening his eyes, telling him not worry... and maybe asking Peter if he had a picture of Mozzie… but that was ridiculous… Moz was one of his best friends, he didn't need a picture… Besides Peter was gone now… following Agent Reynolds out, with one last strangled "D***it Neal… why don't you ever talk to me…?" and a gentle pat on his shoulder.

It wasn't the first time since he woke up, a memory he knew he should have recalled easily… simply wasn't there… the idea tormented him… but he had been able, up to this point, to dismiss it as a side effect of to many powerful drugs in his system. He promised himself his faded memories would return when his mind was clear again, but what if they didn't… Some things were easily recovered… Mozzie's face… could be replaced in his mind the moment he saw the man… but how many things were gone that he could not get back… he clenched his eyes tighter trying to force himself to remember… if he could pull up one lost thing it meant the rest were still there… somewhere… right? He saw the shape of the little guy… silhouetted against his mind… but the details were just gone… his face blank… the harder he tried to grasp the raveled threads of the image… the more it faded like wisps of fog before a winter breeze…

He was cold… an agonizing chill that started in his stomach and wrapped insidiously around his heart… spreading hungrily through his limbs… paralyzing him... choking him. He couldn't get air passed the frozen lump in his throat… he gasped… desperately. "Breathe through your nose…" Dr. Cole's calm voice floated through his panicked mind… he did… letting the respirator take the brunt of the effort from his faltering lungs… "Memory loss is common in a case like yours…" Dr. Cole had mentioned in passing a few days ago…as if she knew… as if she was giving him the option to come clean… to admit…but… he wouldn't… couldn't … not yet.


End file.
